


We used to be brothers

by CC_Sestra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, BDSM, Canonical Character Death, Chick-Flick Moments, Dean Sings, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Sings, Dom Dean, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family Don't End in Blood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light BDSM, Love, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mental Health Issues, Porn With Plot, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Saving People Hunting Things, Self-Harm, Spanking, Sub Sam, Tagging as I go, Tattooed Dean, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 120,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Sestra/pseuds/CC_Sestra
Summary: What could have happened if John didn't want to bring a 6 months old baby on the road and Sam never got to know what a hunter is growing up.Dean and Sam haven't seen each other for more than five years, and both of them have lived through more than any kid should ever have to. Sam is seventeen.





	1. No trust for the abandoned

Sam Winchester never really had a family. When he was six months old, his mother died. No memory of her. Soon after that, his father decided life on the road was not meant for a baby. He left Sam with Missouri. He and Dean, Sam’s older brother, visited a lot at first. Sam could remember that around his sixes and sevens John and Dean still felt like family alongside Missouri. Then Dad had “found something” and suddenly, the visits started to dry up. He once overheard John yelling at Missouri that he had to “protect the boy, with Yellow-eyes on our trail we can’t just come around whenever”. Sam stood there, tears in his eyes, because he was scared of this Yellow-eyes. He didn’t know what it could be, but he knew it wanted to hurt him, and worse, Dad and Dean. Dean found him like that, dragged him out of the hallway and into Sam’s bedroom, gently, breathing warm air into that thick hair of his to calm him down. Sam was still small for his age back then.

“T’will be fine, Sammy. Soon, it’ll be over, and we’ll come get you. Live someplace else, together. Promise.”

“You always say that, and you never do. I don’t think Dad even wants me.”

Sam didn’t know how heartbroken his brother had been by that statement. How Dean had fought to keep the tears down, to be brave for his brother that he loved above everyone and everything else. 

“’Course he does, Sammy. We’re always talking about it.” 

Even at eleven, Dean Winchester was amazing at telling people what they needed to hear. To understand them. Later, this would be used to get under people’s skin when hunting. Back then, he still used his gift only to help people he loved, not con people he would never meet again. He had learned fast, what to say to keep his father happy. John never hit Dean, but it might have been better if he had. His harsh words shaped a boy who never cried, never complained, never showed weakness. That process had been going on for as long Dean could remember, but he couldn’t tell really, because he didn’t know anything else. 

He and Dad weren’t talking about it, that was a lie (they were barely talking at all, mostly it was Dad giving orders and Dean answering Yes, Sir). It was one of the lies Dean told without hesitation, because he didn’t want his brother to hurt. Sammy was the only person that Dean ever truly loved. Dad, of course, but that was… infected. Hard. Demanding. And never spoken out loudly. Dean had never heard his Dad say that he loved anyone, except for Mary, but only when he was drunk and crying, and Dean was hiding most of those times.

Sam had no idea how many nights he was crying for Dean the following years. Always Dean, never Dad, because he was becoming so distant he was almost unreal, like a dream. Those years, Dad would drop Dean off somewhere in the vicinity every now and then. He himself disappeared, let Dean find his way to visit Sam, while he lured anyone following them away from both boys. 

Every time Dean came to see Sam, he was a little bit rougher around the edges. At fourteen, fifteen, Dean seemed to have a secret, something he never would tell Sammy about. Sam couldn’t possibly guess that Dean was now expected to hunt like a man, because the youngest Winchester had no idea what hunting even was. Missouri might have let him in on a secret or two regarding the Sight – but she knew that if she breathed of anything else, and John Winchester found out (and somehow, John Winchester always found out even when it should be impossible), Sam would be taken from her. And she loved that boy, she couldn’t let John put him somewhere else, because God knows who that would be with.

When Sam turned twelve, Dean didn’t come to say congratulations. Sam got a heartfelt phone call, the closest to showing real emotions Dean had come for several months – and all he did, really, was telling his brother happy birthday, and he hoped he could visit soon, and that he and Dad missed Sam. That was the last thing he’d heard from Dean, and somehow it got a little bit easier as time passed. He got used to it. Got his A:s, had a few friends (but never too many or too close), read so many books Missouri wondered if he was training for the Reading Olympics.

Then, Missouri had a heart attack. Just like that. One might have thought she’d have known about that, but it was a surprise even to her. One’s own death was hard to predict, after all. Sam was now fourteen, and hadn’t heard from his father or brother in more than two years. He had no addresses, no working phone numbers, no nothing except for their names. He was thrown into foster care. And that rarely ends well, to which he was no exception. Sam bounced around, getting angrier and angrier, and two years later the once shy and peaceful boy had a mean left hook and a reputation that kept any and all decent foster parents far away. At sixteen, Sam had decided that if his life had to be a nightmare, he might as well be one too. 

His first family had a dad who thought boxing was the answer to all of life’s problems, discipline and getting rid of anger, he always said. He forced young Sam, who’d started to grow very fast by then, to go box almost every day for six months, until Sam had his first full-on tantrum and got kicked out. He shouldn’t have. Everything turned worse after that (because he was too old to be wanted by most and paired with “troublesome” he ended up with the worst possible homes). 

Now, turned seventeen, he had a smoke, leaning against the wall of his latest residence, a group home of the shittier quality. His third, now. His case worker had told him this was it. There was nowhere else to go now, it was this, juvie or try and live on the streets as a fugitive (neither which had agreed with him in the past). Sam had decided to try and wait it out. Eight months, and he was eighteen. Free. He followed the rules, went to school (which he actually liked, and the teachers were stunned with his results, thought he cheated, but no, this bad boy still loved to read and was wicked smart). He stuck to himself, refused to make friends. Once or twice some good-looking boy had been there for a week or two and he hit that (because Sam was, in fact, smoking hot, and got whoever he wanted – mostly dudes). Eight more months, then he didn’t have to wait for the handsome ones to pop up, he could go look for them (if he found a way to pay for going anywhere at all, that was). 

He heard the car before he saw it. That classic car sound, weirdly familiar, made him uneasy. And then he saw it. Black Impala, ´67. He could still remember Dad’s car vaguely, and Dean had loved that car. Always talked about it. Sam had a photo of the car, Dad in front of it, holding a baby that Sam knew was himself, but it was hard to believe he had ever been in such a happy, carefree environment. Next to them stood a blonde, beautiful stranger, one hand in his brother’s summer bleached hair. His mum. 

This was definitely a car just like the one his family had had. Weird. 

Sam walked closer, saw a young man get out, alone, passing the gate. Not his father, then. Why would he think that his father would show up after all this time? Wasn’t even like Sam would’ve gone with him. No thanks, he had had enough of family for this lifetime. Only person he could ever trust was himself. 

The young man was wearing worn jeans and an old leather jacket, and he had the bold swagger that Sam tried for but never got one hundred percent. He didn’t have the self confidence needed. In small ponds, he was a big fish. Here, where the kids were all hardened from a life not meant to be lived by children, he was still a somewhat big fish, enough for the others to leave him be. But just barely. That man, walking up to the ram-shackle house, he was a big fish almost everywhere, Sam thought to himself. Had that look that you learn to identify real quick when you live on the shady side of life. And still, the young man seemed carefree, relaxed, not threatening, to the more naïve bystander. He didn’t need to play tough because he knew he was, Sam was sure of it. Wouldn’t have surprised him if that guy had a few kills under his belt. 

Sam sneaked inside, saw the dangerous guy knock on Mrs. Sandville’s door and let himself in. Quickly, he snuck inside the music room next door, in where the guitars were stored – and he could hear whatever was said in Mrs. Sandville’s office.

“…so, officer Hetfield, aren’t you awfully young to have your job?”

That guy? An officer? No way. If that guy was with the police, Sam was a rock star. 

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Sandville. May I call you Doris?”

“No. Why do you want to talk to Sam Winchester?”

Sam felt his heart freeze just a little bit. This was not good. What had he done to deserve any attention lately? He had no idea.

“Just a few routine questions about someone we think he might know. That’s why I came in civvies, you know. Easier to talk to kids dressed like this, Doris… Mrs. Sandville.”

There was a deep sigh and Mrs. Sandville waved her hand (Sam couldn’t see this, of course, but he made an educated guess). 

“Fine. Go talk to him. I think he was outside smoking not two minutes ago, but it’s lunchtime, so you can catch him in the dining hall.” (They didn’t care that he smoked here. Bigger problems.)

“Officer Hetfield” or whoever he was must have nodded or something because he was walking out to the corridor, moving towards the dining hall (a very big word for that worn-down old room with even more worn-down furniture barely holding together for Sam Winchester, who’d gotten very tall (and very good-looking even if he was unkempt and a bit skinny.) 

Sam considered to run, but decided that wasn’t such a good idea. If “Hetfield” was a police officer, Sam would be in trouble. If he wasn’t (which he wasn’t, for sure), Sam would still be in trouble, only probably worse. He walked down the corridor, prepared to get caught. 

“Hiya, Sammy. Officer Hetfield, New York PD.” 

The man flashed his badge in front of Sam. It looked real enough. But it couldn’t be, could it?

Sam had seen, and felt, that vibe from far away, that mix of sexy swagger and the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were the most dangerous person in the room, by far. What he hadn’t seen, was that the young man in front of him was absolutely stunning. The blonde hair, the sunkissed skin, the freckles, the most intense green eyes Sam had ever met, striking a nerve, like he should remember something. And the mouth, perfectly full lips. Light stubble. The guy could be a model, or a movie star. But not a cop. This was a very weird day in the miserable life of Sam.

“It’s Sam.” 

Better “Hetfield” didn’t know he was suspecting anything. He’d act like the “officer” was an officer. 

“Sure, Sammy. Let’s go talk in your room for a while.”

Sam glared, very annoyed, at the guy who thought it was okay for him to use pet names for Sam Winchester, who had ever only accepted that from one person. One. And it sure as hell wasn’t someone called Hetfield. 

The probably fake cop almost pushed Sam into his room. Sam had the luxury of a one-bed-room, so small he and officer Hetfield barely fit by the bed, but still, a luxury. Even if it had been a closet once. Then he did the last thing Sam, who was steeling himself for anything, would have expected. He hugged him. 

“Sammy, finally. I’ve been looking for so long.” 

Sam didn’t hug back. He just stood there, arms hanging.

“What?”

The guy stepped back, held Sam at an arm’s length.

“Sammy? Don’t you recognize me? I mean, you, you have outgrown me, so I guess if I didn’t have your mugshots…”

Sam stared in disbelief, his face all angles and dark rings under his eyes.

“….Dean?”

Sam couldn’t really believe this was Dean, but the more he searched for what he remembered, the more he realized it was. He had shut all memories away, hidden the cries for those green eyes so far down he didn’t recognize them. The scar splitting Dean’s eyebrow in two (which Sammy never got to know how) was the thing that proved it. His brother had slowly morphed into a totally sexy guy, but his face had the same features it always had had, just more grown-up, if Sam would just let himself remember. Dean’s body wasn’t the same, of course. Dean hadn’t even turned sixteen last they saw each other and now, he was twenty-one. They had done a lot of growing up, both of them.

“Yeah, little brother, finally. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here, but for some reason, your records are always hidden away and they move you around all the time. Don’t know why but maybe you can tell me. When we’ve gotten you out of here.”

“Out of here?” Sam said, very unsure of what Dean meant. 

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m busting you out. Tonight. This place got like no security, so you can’t be much of a criminal.” 

“But you are” Sam whispered.

Dean looked at him, curious.

“What?”

“You might be my brother, or we used to be brothers, I don’t know you anymore. But I know your type. I’m not going with you. Eight more months, and I’m free.”

Dean stared at him now, lost for words. Sam just stared back, but his provocative, darkest glare, wasn’t met by a threatening one as Sam would expect from someone like Dean. No, Dean’s eyes were warm, caring. 

“Sammy, I promise I will take care of you. I’ve been looking for so long.”

“Yeah, bang-up job” Sam snarled. “You found me just as I’m about done in hell.” 

Dean’s mouth, that gorgeous mouth, opened a little bit in shock, and sadness filled his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I tried my best, I really di..”

“Not good enough, and now it’s too late” Sam bit off, and tried to storm out the door, only he couldn’t, because Dean was standing in the way. He would have to climb over the bed and that would look… ridiculous. Especially since he would have to crouch not to hit his head.

Dean was, as always, thinking on his feet. Sam clearly wasn’t going to give in to any brotherly reunion outside these doors that day. 

“Fine, Sammy, but listen to me. Next week, I’m coming back, asking for you again, to follow up some leads you gave me about someone called Gabriel, okay? You know a Gabriel, have heard about him, dealing drugs. You don’t want to talk about it, but I probably have something on you, so you do anyway. Can you remember that? Think about it and give me a chance. I will stick around a few days and I’ll be here Monday. I want you out of this shithole, Sammy, and I’ll get you out of here so fast your head will spin if you just give me the go.”

“Then why don’t you sign me out, switching that badge for a real ID?”

Dean sighed.

“I’m sorry Sammy, I can’t do that. But they will never catch you if you stay with me.”

With that, his big brother, the fake cop, who maybe or maybe not had killed people, but most definitely was a lot more dangerous now than last time he saw him, walked out. Leaving Sam breathless, shaken, sick to his stomach. He had worked for years to keep that shit down, and now Dean was there, stirring it all up again. _You can NOT trust that guy, Sam. He hasn’t been there for you since you were a kid, if even then. Do NOT believe this will work out, because it won’t. You are all you got._ The fact that Dean was a criminal didn’t bother him much. It was the fact that sooner or later (probably sooner) he would drop Sam off somewhere again. Leave him behind.

\--- --- --- --- --- 

Sam tried not to think about the fact that it was Monday. The day Dean had said he would return. The day he most certainly wouldn’t return. It was going to be like before, when Sam was abandoned again and again, but this time, Sam was a big boy. He wouldn’t let it hurt him, not this time. Sam was smart, so of course he knew why he was going for his third smoke before breakfast, but he chose not to acknowledge it. Everything even remotely related to why this day was what it was had to be pushed down, ignored. When it was lunch-time, he had smoked half a pack and was sure Dean wouldn’t come. Not that he was thinking about it. Not that it hurt. 

Then, he saw Dean walking in the door, searching for him as all eyes turned to Dean, some (or many, to be honest) of them full of sudden want. Teenage hormones were flooding this place, filling it up until it burst at the seams. Dean didn’t care about that though, he was looking for his brother and when he found him, his eyes suddenly caught green fire, because Sam had a shiner coming along nicely. Before Sam had time to realize what was happening, Dean had shoved him into the tiny room once more and asked him with a strained voice, hoarse with anger, what had happened. Sam had thought about Dean’s voice since he left last time, so gritty compared to what he remembered. Now, he was almost scared of Dean, eyes and voice vibrating with a threat that wasn’t, in any way, idle. 

“New guy thought he’d try and show off.”

“I’m gonna rip his throat out” Dean growled, almost feral. Then, in one second flat, his eyes grew soft and he cupped Sam’s bruised cheek tenderly. Sam twitched and would have backed up if there was anywhere to back up. “Sammy, you have to let me get you out of here.” 

Sam fought himself, trying not to react to the protective and then caring brother he’d thought he’d never see again. He had decided not to go with Dean. But what did he have to lose, really? He had no money, nowhere to go once he was free, and this new guy was probably, from what Sam heard, going to stay for months. Sam would get kicked out sooner or later, because with his temper, New Guy wouldn’t get away with it for too long. He just had to not trust Dean, which should be easy, because he hadn’t trusted anybody since Missouri died. Maybe he could score some money out of it and be better off in some other state. 

Sam’s eyes, his voice, his entire body, was breathing defiance. His decision was not to do what Dean said, but to do what he thought was best for this moment and this moment only.

“Fine. When?”

Dean sighed in relief. 

“Tonight. You able to get out of here on your own or do I need to come get you?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Wait outside, on North Street. I’ll be there at three.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Maybe New Guy should have gotten a parting gift, but Sam decided to skip it. He’d never see New Guy again anyway, so what good would it do? 

Exactly three o’clock, he got in the Impala, parked where he had told Dean to. The car came to life and Sam saw the group home for the very last time. He barely thought about that, though, used as he was to bounce around. 

“So, you leave New Guy a parting gift?” Dean asked, as if he knew Sam. He didn’t, oh no, hadn’t been around for the last six years or so, which meant he couldn’t. 

“Nah. Not worth it” Sam answered. Then he bit his lip and got annoyed with himself for acknowledging the fact that Dean had been right about him considering it.

“He wouldn’t enjoy it for long, anyway. He’s going to Bucknell’s next week.” 

Sam drew his breath violently. He knew about Bucknell’s group home, the one he hadn’t even been threatened with. It was bad. 

“How?”

“I know people. No one will hurt you when I’m around, Sam.” 

“I didn’t ask you to do that. New Guy might be a massive asshat, but he didn’t deserve Bucknell’s.” 

Dean turned and watched him in the eyes, lights from street lamps travelling over his face.

“Then he shouldn’t have messed with you.” 

“I don’t need protection. I make my own decisions, or you stop the car and let me out.”

Dean smiled. 

“Oh no, not letting you go now, sweetness.”

Sam was staring at Dean in disbelief. Sweetness? 

They were driving all night, Dean listening to the same old cassette tapes he had always listened to, made Sam listen to. It was very weird and very familiar at the same time. Just as the sun rose, Sam realized something he had forgot to ask about.

“Dean, where’s Dad?”

There were storms and dark clouds all over Dean’s face.

“I don’t know, Sammy. And right now, I don’t care. Baby is mine now and we are going to go on a road trip together. We can talk about Dad after that.” 

Sam was very much wondering what had happened. He had started to remember all sorts of stuff, and Dean talking about Dad like that, even when the old man couldn’t hear him, was a lot more unexpected than Dean with a fake police badge. John Winchester had always been like a puppeteer with his eldest. When he called, and Dean asked to stay with Sam a little bit longer, John would say something at the other end of the line and Dean’s back would straighten up and he’d say “Yes, Sir” like he never asked why, just how long. But Sam wouldn’t ask Dean about that, no way. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He was just along for the ride. 

Dean stopped at a shitty motel in a shitty town and checked them in while Sam stood outside, smoking. Then they went up to their room, Dean looked around and flung his bag on the bed closest to the door.

“Sam, I have some business in this town. You get some sleep, and I’ll be right back when you wake up.”

“What business?”

“Doesn’t matter. Won’t be long.”

“Oh, it does matter. I’m not a kid anymore. Either I go with you or I go back.” 

Sam regretted the words at the same time as they left his mouth. He didn’t want to go back. 

Dean sighed.

“There are things I don’t want you to have to know about, Sammy. Trust me, you don’t want to.”

Sam took a deep breath. Too late to back down.

“No, Dean. I don’t trust you. And I don’t care if it’s scary or bad, because if you think we are going on some road trip with you ditching me all the time for some mysterious “business”, then you are wrong. No lies, Dean. No leaving me behind. If this is what you want, you let me in.” 

Sam had no idea where all that came from, but it was suddenly just there. Dean looked a little bit heartbroken, because he was. He knew Sam was right, his brother wasn’t a kid anymore, and he probably couldn’t hide the truth from him for very long if he was going to keep him around. And Dean wanted to keep Sam around, had longed to do that every time Dad forced him to leave Sammy behind. 

“Okay, Sammy, but look. We’ll take the band-aid off quickly. I go do this thing and when I get back, I’ll take you to this place. Show you. If you’re sure, because this is a one-way-road. You can’t unsee or unknow afterwards. And I think you need to see to believe me.” 

Sam had always questioned everything, always demanded proof to believe something. 

“I’m sure” Sam said with a forced bravado. He was sure, mostly. He had to know who he was travelling with. Mobster? Hitman? Con artist? Would Dean show him a corpse, or what? 

When Dean returned, Sam hadn’t gotten any sleep even if the shitty motel-bed was better than the shitty group-home-bed. Dean looked at him with tired, weary eyes, strangely sad. Like he was about to hurt Sam but didn’t want to (which was the truth). 

“You ready?”

“Sure.”

Dean drove silently. He would have asked Sam to reconsider, but he knew Sam wouldn’t cave now. He’d gone too far. Dean remembered the stubborn kid he had tried to be a big brother to, a kid never giving in once he had committed to something. That hadn’t changed, even if the kid himself had – a lot. It was hard to recognize him, those bony angles (gotta fatten him up a bit), that defiant stare in the hazel eyes that were once so warm and open. Taller than Dean now, but yet a child in some ways. Not done growing up because no one had let him, they had made him skip that part. Like Dad had skipped Dean’s entire childhood, making him a private in the two-man-army he created when Dean hadn’t even turned five yet. 

Dean had never gone to school, never had friends for more than a few weeks. Never would've had the time to see them much anyway, since he had a training schedule that would have landed most kids in a hospital. But not Dean, no he bit down and let Dad put him through endless exercises to make him a hunter through and through. Dean knew more lore at age seven than other people would in their entire life. At age nine, he could kick most grown-up’s asses if he wanted to. At eleven, he killed his first monster. No, he was never a child. He was a soldier. And the only thing reminding him, before he met Jody, that there was something to life besides killing evil sons-of-bitches, was his brother. Not that Dean never had fun, or what he believed to be fun anyway. He lost his virginity at age thirteen, drank his first beer a year later. Went to great gigs when he was so underage it was ridiculous. He just never let anyone in, never let anything matter for more than one night. But now he was back with Sammy, and his heart ached.

“This is it, Sammy. Last chance.” 

They had stopped outside a big, dark barn, at an old, abandoned farm. 

Sam swallowed. 

“Let’s go, then.”

Inside, Dean had found an old generator to give them a bit of light. At the only part of the barn not dark, there was a man, tied to a chair. _Mob, then,_ Sam thought to himself. _My brother is torturing this guy and I will have to watch._ But when they got closer, Sam got confused. There was something… wrong with this guy. Then, the guy hissed and bared his teeth. Sam froze and just stared at the thing, the creature, dried blood at it’s temple, trying to get loose to, presumably, bite them with all of those sharp teeth that filled its mouth, pure hatred in it’s weird eyes. 

Dean stepped closer and with one smooth movement, he beheaded the creature with some sort of machete. 

“That, Sammy, was a vampire. Beheading them works, staking them doesn’t. Sun doesn’t kill them, but they don’t like it either. Stings. Garlic and crosses are absolutely useless. They can look like a normal person, but when they fang up they are way faster and deadlier than any living human being. Now you know about vampires. We have about a thousand other things to go through, if you want to learn the things I have never told you. Never wanted to tell you.”

Dean spoke with a flat voice, void of emotions. He didn’t look at Sam. 

“Dean, I… THIS is what you and Dad were doing? But you were just a kid!”

“I never was a kid, Sammy” Dean answered, now looking at him. “But I always wanted to let you be one.” 

Sam was breathless, didn’t say a word for a little while. Then he turned, looked at the vampire, who wasn’t about to go “poof”. The first dead body Sam had ever seen for more than a few seconds. Still (maybe it was shock) Sam didn't panic, didn't refuse to believe what he had just witnessed.

“What killed Mom?” he asked, instead. Sam was smart, and he put it all together fast. Why Dad, who according to pictures had been an average joe, suddenly turned into something else. 

“Yellow-eyes. A demon. Dad is closing in on a way to kill him right now. Didn’t want me with him.”

Dean had decided to put all cards on the table and hope that Sam could take it. Ripping off the band-aid quickly, now that he had to rip it off at all. 

“So you came looking for me instead” Sam said, hurt, with the faded memory of John yelling about Yellow-eyes ringing in his ears. 

Dean hadn’t found him important enough to want to look for him before Dad ditched him, too.

“No, Sammy. I refused not to look for you, so Dad got angry (understatement of the year) and said I couldn’t help him if I couldn’t prioritize.” Dean hadn’t planned to tell Sam the truth about THAT, but it just came out. He wasn’t going to lie for Dad any longer, pretend Dad wasn’t an emotional abuser anymore. Sam barely knew the man anyway, not much hope of him ever believing Dad cared for him. 

“Dad is a major fucking ass” Sam stated. 

“Sammy, this here is the truth. Now, you don’t have to know anything else about this. You don’t have to be a hunter" Dean said, ignoring what Sam just said.

“That what it’s called? To be a hunter?”

“Yeah. And I’m stuck, Sammy. I can’t do anything else, I’m programmed for this. But you don’t have to be.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Sometimes, because I was given no choice. Mostly, because I am helping people” Dean answered, almost exhausted from all this truth and openheartedness. He hadn't been this honest in, well, ever. 

“You never wanted to do anything else? Go to college?”

Dean made a face.

“Sammy, I never went to school.”

“You mean you dropped out?”

“No, I mean I never went. At all.”

It was dawning on Sam how much Dean had kept from him, his entire life, to keep him away from painful truths. It made him angry, to be lied to, but it also made him sad. However fucked up his life was now, he could still remember the years with Missouri, the years when he had been “normal”. Dean had never had that.

When they were driving “home”, to the shitty motel, Sam was quiet. Less than a day ago, he’d been at the group home, considering if he should go with his brother the Dangerous Guy. Now, here he was, with his brother the Hunter, killer of all things still hard to believe existing.

Sam was absolutely exhausted when they got back. He climbed into bed without a word, kicking his shoes and old baggy jeans off. He stared at the wall, unable to close his eyes even if he’d never been this tired in his life. Too much new and troubling information had overflooded his brain and made his body weirdly sore, but it wouldn’t let him relax enough to go to sleep. Sam hadn’t been able to sleep very well in two years. Not since that fucker tried to rape him in his sleep. The fucker that was the last family home he was ever in. Group homes after that. Sam thought he might tell Dean about that fucker, because he suspected the would-be-rapist was still out there. No one cared what Sam had to say, so it was possible, or probable even, that he had some other young boy in his bed these days. Dean could take care of that, maybe. Because Dean killed freaking monsters. And he knew people.

Dean brushed his teeth and when he got back into the room, he could see from Sam’s body language that his little brother was not sleeping. Not even close. Dean didn’t think (he seldom did, those days, just let his gut guide him, because it was very close to always right). He climbed into bed behind Sam, held him like he held him before, when they were kids, and Sam had those nightmares. Bad nightmares. Maybe, Dean thought, he still has those, and that is why he was rewarded the one single-bed-room in the crappy group home where he lived. Sam flinched when Dean got behind him, held him, but he didn’t pull away. He was too tired to think, too tired to protest. He pretended he didn’t love what Dean was doing. That he thought it was weird for them to still do that, even though they were no longer kids. It really felt like the best thing he has had for years and years, but he ignored that fact, relished the feeling as he pushed away the reason he had it, which took all of his remaining energy and he finally fell asleep, calm in his big brother's protective arms.


	2. A New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finds out what Dean's life looks like and decides to ask for things Dean isn't happy about giving him. Pet names, though, Dean likes to give his brother. Even if Sam doesn't want them (which he does, secretly, of course).

Sam woke up in the motel, not knowing where he was. That didn’t bother him much. He was used to it. When he heard a door open and shut, he woke up fast as hell though. Never knew what that meant. Someone coming in the door had meant a lot of things for Sam over the last few years, none of them pleasant.

Dean watched Sam waking up and sitting up in the bed, eyes forced open way too fast, and he saw him with the eyes of an outsider who had spent his life reading other people, never truly engaging with them. Learning what made them tick, how different approaches would make them react. Now he saw a boy, scared that someone coming into his room might mean they wanted to hurt him in his sleep. Dean wouldn’t have wished his own upbringing on anyone. Now he was suddenly in the mood of punching someone in the face, preferably someone who had been a part of making Sam do that move, because Sam’s surely hadn’t been a good one either. 

“You drink coffee, baby brother?”

“Not a baby, Dean” Sam said sharply, but still held his hands out to get the warm coffee, smelling so good. Like real coffee, not the crap that they tried to pass off for coffee back at the home.

No, Sam wasn’t a baby. And he wasn’t sweet, not to other people anyway. But Dean could let him be a baby, for a while, make him sweet again, like before life tried to kill that part of him. Because it was still there, Dean was sure of it, only hidden because of the abuse. Just like that horrible haircut didn’t keep the hair from falling in Sam’s eyes in the cutest way. He could let Sam do the last of the growing up like the kid he should’ve been. He just had to smart about it, because Sam had been hurt so bad, he had put up all kinds of defenses. 

“You want milk or sugar?”

“No, I want my smokes” Sam murmured with a hoarse morning voice.

Dean was about to say something about that, but he decided not to. Sam wasn’t ready for it. Instead, he followed Sam out. 

“Can I bum one?” he said, going in another direction.

Dean had never been a smoker. He was way too much in need of strength and stamina for that. He had tried to dull some of the pain from hunting in a lot of ways over the years, but he kept it like he kept most things in his life – for one night, never a habit. Just little helpers sometimes to keep the devil-may-care attitude he had made his own defense, just like Sam had made that cocky defiance his. But he could appreciate a smoke with his morning coffee, if it meant he could share something with Sam. 

Dean didn’t try force Sam to say anything. They just stood there, outside a shitty motel room, drinking coffee, having one of the cheap cigarettes Sam was almost out of. Finally, Sam caved and spoke. 

“What now?”

“We crossed state lines yesterday, but I say we do that again. We’ll stop for supplies.”

“Supplies?”

“Darling, you need some new clothes. And probably most other things, too.”

That was very true. Sam had brought a back-pack, but there wasn’t much in it, to be honest. He owned nothing. He ignored the fact that Dean kept calling him everything but his name. It didn’t help to tell him to stop, and Sam didn’t really have any other ways to make his brother do anything he didn’t chose to (or, he thought he didn’t, because he didn’t dare believe how much Dean in fact loved him). 

“Sure. Let’s go shopping.” 

Sam had no pride. If he got stuff out of this, he would take stuff. Never knew when he’d have a chance like that again.

“There might be a case, two days from here” Dean said, offering up the truth to Sam, hoping he’d understand how much that meant. 

“A case?”

“Werewolves. A pack. Another hunter is on it, but she might need some help.”

“Oh. A case. And another hunter. Not really easing me into this whole thing, are you?”

“You wanted the truth. This is the truth. And if we can save a lot of lives, don’t you think that kind of matters?”

 _A killer with a golden heart. How beautiful,_ Sam thought sarcastically. 

“We?”

“Oh, me and Tessa. Not you. You are NOT going hunting, Sammy.”

Sam flinched. Not because he wanted him and Dean to be “we”, no, they never would. He decided to ignore it, and didn’t see that Dean read him like an open book. Regretted the way he had worded that. Reminded himself that for a while he had to treat Sam like he would someone he needed to prod the right way when he was on a case. Carefully choose his words.

“Dean, werewolves and vampires and… whatever else there is, that’s the only kind of thing you ever kill?”

Weird that Sam could take the talk, and the world view that came with it, without breaking a sweat but was so very sensitive to how Dean used his words. Or, maybe not. Hunting was a new thing. Being abandoned and let down was something Sam expected to happen and read into everything possible to read it into.

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Sammy?”

“Have you ever killed… people?”

Dean didn’t know how to answer that without a lie, and he promised no lies. 

“So, you have” Sam said.

“Sam, don’t… just leave that be for now, sweetness.”

“Would you kill someone for me?”

Dean had killed people for a lot less than making Sammy happy. But he sincerely doubted killing someone WOULD make Sam happy, even if his baby brother thought so. 

“Look, Sam, I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for here.”

“I am, Dean.” 

He really was. Maybe he would change his mind later, but it would still have been the right thing to do. Stop that son of a bitch from hurting more kids.

Dean put his cigarette out, longing for a toothbrush to get rid of the taste. No, he wouldn’t be a smoker anytime soon. 

“We can talk about that in the car. Get ready, we leave in ten.”

Sam didn’t answer, but he was ready in about two. He hadn’t needed more than that for years, always expecting to move on. 

They drove away in silence, Sam staring out the window vacantly. Dean watched him every now and then, but let him be. He needed some time to adjust. Sam might be used to changes of scenery, but this was a bit more than he’d gone through before, to put it (extremely) mildly. 

A few hours later, they stopped at a town big enough to accommodate Sam’s need for new clothes and toiletry. 

“I’m sure you know I don’t have a dollar to my name, so you’re paying, big brother (said with sarcasm, but still an admission Dean was his brother, so Dean still smiled).”

Truth to be told, Sam had about two hundred saved up. He wasn’t going to mention this, though. 

“That’s okay, Sammy. You get what you want.”

“No price limit?”

“No price limit. But we travel light, Sammy. Don’t get weighed down.”

Sam did his best to get as much out of the deal as he could. Dean’s credit card (hello Syd Barrett) seemed to be able to take it without breaking Sam’s stride. When they entered the last store, Sam wondered what they were doing there. Dean got a cell phone, a very nice one. A lot nicer than Sam’s old crappy one with a cracked display. 

They got out, where Baby, as Dean insisted on calling the car, awaited. 

“You got any contacts in your phone you’d like to keep?” Dean asked.

“Not really” Sam answered, shrugged. He really didn’t. 

Dean gestured for them to switch phones. Then he gave Sam’s old phone a good stomp, and they got in the car.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“First of all, you gotta stop that. It’s creepy calling your brother babe.” 

Dean smiled, that annoying smile telling Sam there was no stopping Dean doing whatever he wanted. That smile that would have lit up the entire barn from yesterday. 

“Second, are there any warrants I should know about? You know, the kind that make you wanna cross state lines and crush my crap phone?”

“No, _babe_ , no warrants. I’m just careful, and I did ‘nap you from that shithole.”

“If you say so. Still, I wonder what the police – you know, the real police – would do if they found Dean Winchester.”

“They’re not looking.”

Sam scoffed. 

“They’re really not. Dean Winchester died when he was seven years old, you know.”

Sam’s eyes widened. 

“What?”

“Easier that way. A live kid should be in school, should have a home.”

“That’s why you couldn’t sign me out.”

“Some alarms might go off if a dead guy tried, yeah.”

Sam watched his brother, driving with such a carefree smile. A kid who’d had his death faked at seven. By his dad. Who’d spent his entire life following orders. Until now. Maybe he needed a bit of saving, but so did Dean, no matter how content he seemed. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Thank Syd Barrett.”

“No, not for the stuff. For coming to get me.”

“Sure. Sorry it took so long, meant to do that for like ten years now.”

“Not your fault” Sam said, and he meant it. Still didn’t trust Dean though, no. Not taking that risk. 

They drove for hours and hours. Dean didn’t seem to tire, and it was clear he felt free on the road. Him behind the wheel, warning Sam with a voice that left no doubts that he meant it, of making a mess with the food he’d gotten them to eat in the car. Sam rolled his eyes, but he was very careful not to spill. It was a very small prize to pay for what he was getting. 

It had been dark for a while when they finally stopped, another crappy motel. Dean stretched his legs and switched credit cards before he checked them in. Syd Barrett got off the hook for the night.

“You hungry?”

Sam nodded. He was, alright. Somehow even more hungry after eating something that tasted good before, like his body realized it could be very nice to eat. He hadn’t even missed his after-food-cigarette that bad, the one he had to get a lot later when they stopped for a bathroom break. 

“Let’s go.”

Dean took him to a place that could pass for a restaurant on a good day. Sam sunk down in the chair, looked at the menu. He wanted the Ceasar salad. 

“You can order anything, and that’s what you want?”

“Dean, I haven’t eaten anything that has vitamins in it for years. I’d like to try, if that’s okay with you.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

Sam grinded his teeth, regretting ever letting Dean know he didn’t want him to use that pet name (because he didn’t, right, no, not at all, not even deep down) (yes, he did). 

Salad was a revelation. Reminded him of a time when food wasn’t just something you hoped would fill you up somehow. 

Dean watched his brother, swore Sam would never again have to be so happy about getting a half crappy salad. He was flush right now after the last job, this place was just where he felt like he belonged, had the food he liked. Burgers, bacon, that kind of thing. But he could afford better food for Sammy, without a doubt. 

Back at the motel, Dean went for a run. He hated it, always had, but after years and years it was a habit he couldn’t shake. Sam stayed behind, had a smoke and watched bad TV. When Dean got back, he shed the old Metallica-t-shirt and completed the work-out, down on the floor. He felt Sam’s eyes on him, the guy who’d been gone for so long he barely felt like a brother anymore. The guy who had been whipped into shape since he was a kid. First, Sam reacted to the scars all over Dean, battle scars, reminders of lessons in the art of surviving. But then, Sam’s eyes were enjoying the muscles, the lean shape, the broad shoulders. Dean was a work of art, and Sam could try and convince himself it was about the scars, and it was at first, but it really wasn’t later. 

_So, my brother likes to get sweaty with guys_ , Dean thought to himself, saved that fact in his head. And left the door open when he took a shower, because yeah, he knew very well how he looked naked. That, and the fact that he could kick all kinds of evil supernatural fuckers to the curb, was the upside of the regime John had forced him into until it became an addiction, one he had to keep feeding or he would explode in a burst of adrenaline and repressed anger. 

When he got back, he let the towel fall to the floor to put on some clean clothes, making Sam blush and look away. Then Sam had a shower, with a closed door.

 _What’re you doing in there Sammy_ , Dean thought and smiled as he got his laptop out. 

When Sam got back, dressed because he had taken some of his newly bought clothes in there with him, he tried to play it cool, pretend he wasn’t aching to ask his brother more about all the things that had happened between they were separated and now. Pretended he absolutely had not thought about how Dean looked as he was jerking off in the shower.

“We’re going to see this Tessa tomorrow?”

“Yeah, probably. We have to make a detour. Visit a library on the way.”

“A library?”

“Yeah, the kind where I can find a book to explain those freaks we’re about to kill. Tessa says there’s something off with them. And rule number one to survive, Sammy, is know what you can about what you’re up against.”

“What’s rule number two?”

“Adapt or die when you find out you got it wrong” Dean said and closed the laptop. “Now, we need some sleep. You want to be cuddled, or you tired enough to sleep anyway?”

Sam stared at him.

“I…” 

Dean smiled, cocked his eyebrow and gave Sam that ten thousand lux smile, the one as bright as the sun. 

“Fine, I’ll come to you.”

Sam didn’t say a word, but he didn’t try and stop Dean who snuck under the covers, holding Sam and covering him in warmth and that incredible smell. 

“Want to tell me why you want someone dead?” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear. “You don’t have to, Sammy, but since you asked.”

Sam swallowed, pressed himself as close to Dean as he could without thinking about it.

“There was this man.” 

Dean bit his lip, trying very hard not to become tense. He’d been scared of this. 

“He tried…”

“I get it, Sammy” Dean said, when Sam’s voice wouldn’t finish the sentence. No need to force Sam to say the words. “But he didn’t succeed?”

“Not all the way, no. Enough for me to feel like… And Dean, I think he still gets to take kids in. I just…”

“You don’t want anyone else to have to wake up in fear, like you did when I brought the coffee.”

Sam didn’t answer, but he made a little sound, deep in his throat, a sad little sound that made Dean hold him even tighter. 

“You are safe now, Sammy. And if you want, I’ll kill that son of a bitch deader than dead. Actually, I will anyway. Nobody gets away with having laid hands on you from now on. And no one else ever will do that again. I got you now, babe.”

“Thanks” Sam whispered in a thick voice. He was over being snarky for the moment. 

Dean rubbed him gently, calmed him down with gifted fingers, applying the exact right pressure. Sam’s shoulder, his arm, his wrist… and there, Dean found the battle scars Sam had, the ones he’d gotten fighting the self-hate he carried around. Sam twitched, got tense. 

“Oh babe, I should have found you years ago, Dad be damned” Dean whispered, assured Sam he didn’t think Sam was weak or stupid. Sam felt the tears fill his throat, and some of them spilling over. Dean wiped them away with his thumb, kept cuddling Sam until he calmed down, relaxed, and finally fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time in so many years. If he ever had, fully, even back at Missouri’s, with those nightmares hunting him. 

Sam woke up to the smell of coffee. Dean had snuck in so quietly the door didn’t make any sound. He was very good at moving without a sound, after getting hurt more than once when he failed to do just that. 

“Morning, babe. Ready to go in twenty.”

Sam blinked the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Wanna try and have coffee without a side of cancer today?”

Sam gave Dean one of these annoyed looks that said he did whatever he wanted.

“No.”

“Too bad, because that’s what you are doing, sweetness.”

That deep whiskey voice, the calm certainty Dean would get whatever he decided to get. It should piss Sam off, but somehow it didn’t. It went on to be the first morning without a smoke for a very long time.

In the car, there was a big plastic bag in the passenger seat. 

“Little present for you, encouraging you in your quest to give up smoking” Dean said with a chuckle. 

“I never said I would quit.”

“Look, Sam, you will quit. Might as well enjoy the benefits.”

Sam was annoyed, but he couldn’t help wondering what it was. Grumbling, he sneaked a peek.

It was a laptop. Sam had never had a laptop, never any kind of computer, and his brother had seen how bad Sam wanted one yesterday, seen it in the eyes when Dean had worked on his own.

“So much better than those stinky things, right?” 

He was getting under Sam’s skin, fast. His brother wasn’t used to having anyone close that cared about him, that wanted to take care of him. One little step at a time, he got closer to trusting Dean. And Dean wanted that, wanted it forever. 

“You can’t bribe me to do whatever you say, Dean.”

“Oh, but I can this time, babe. You quit smoking, you get that. Fair trade, I’d say.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Walking into a library, Sam relaxed almost visibly. He loved books. Always had. 

Dean knew where to go, a little corner of the library, stuffed with odd old books. Apparently, some libraries kept a “Hunter’s Corner” as Dean called it. Sam watched his brother turn pages as he himself started reading a book about werewolves to try and help. He still had problems with this being true, but he knew what he had seen, and if it wasn’t true, he would find out soon enough. When there were no werewolves to be found. 

Dean stared in concentration on a single page in the book he was holding. Sam watched him, remembering Dean had never gone to school. He felt sadness well up in him and stretched out his hands. 

“Can I see?”

Maybe he could help. Not that he knew anything about werewolves, but getting what he wanted out of books, that he knew. Dean gave the book a final stare and handed it over. 

“Dean, this is in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s about purebloods, which I think is what we will find when we get to Tessa” Dean answered, and then recited the entire page, translating sentence by sentence.

“You… memorized the entire page? And you know Latin?”

Dean shrugged. 

“Dean, you said you never went to school.”

“School is not the only place to learn, Sammy” Dean said with slight reproach in his voice. 

“Of course, Dean, I just… I’m sorry.”

Sam hadn’t told anyone he was sorry in about six years. Still, with Dean, he’s old soft ways kind of came back. 

“It’s fine.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Sam absolutely refused being left behind. 

“I quit smoking. I do what you say all day. But this, I won’t back down on this, Dean. I am coming.”

“Okay. If you can shoot a gun, you can come.”

“You know I can’t. You teach me how, and you take me with you.”

“Before tonight?”

“No time like the present, Dean.”

His big brother took him out in the woods outside town, showed him how a gun worked, explaining how to hold it, how to shoot it. Sam was a quick study, and he was also, it seemed, a natural at shooting guns. Dean couldn’t help but watch the scars Sam had on his wrist while he was teaching his baby brother, who he’d still like to keep out of this, and swearing once more to himself Sam would never have to feel like that. Not ever again. 

Sam’s first hunt had him so full of adrenaline and fear that he shook. Of course, he didn’t do much. He followed instructions, hid the best he could, and saw his brother and this Tessa kill werewolves. Actual werewolves. He didn’t know what was scarier, the hairy violent fuckers or his brother, moving like a cat, a lean killing machine, almost not human. This Dean was the reason the other Dean had that vibe telling people who knew anything to stay out of his way. Could he get used to this Dean? Shooting these monsters full of silver bullets, cutting through one of them that attacked him from behind like he was slicing meat for dinner. Blood everywhere, bodies everywhere, Tessa with a dislocated shoulder Dean put back in it’s socket like he’d done that a thousand times before, not particularly bothered with Tessa screaming in pain. Not that Tessa was, either, right after. Hunters were used to being injured and in pain. The night was a big blur, bleeding together as Sam sat, shaking in a chair, waiting for Dean to take a shower. Thousand-yard stare if there ever was one.

“Sammy? You okay, there?” Dean said, with a soft, low voice, smelling of the whiskey he’d cracked open when they returned to the motel.

“I don’t know, Dean. That was…” 

Dean handed him a whiskey, which Sam drank with a facial expression that told Dean his brother had probably not tasted something like that before. 

“You can’t unsee it, Sam, but you don’t have to be in any more of it, either. I don’t want you to. I want you to be safe and happy and not knee deep in werewolf entrails.”

Sam looked up with determination pouring from every cell of his body.

“I get that I can’t be of much help right now. But my life has been meaningless. I want this, Dean, and I want you to teach it to me, because this, however weird it is, makes sense to me.” 

“You can go to school, Sammy. I have money. You can do whatever you want.”

“I. Want. This. And I want you to help me kill Troy.”

“The guy you told me about yesterday?”

“Yeah. I want to pull the trigger, Dean. I want to kill my old life, get a new one. Then I want to kill the things that made me lose the one I should’ve had.”

“Sammy,” Dean said, sitting down next to him, one hand on Sam’s thigh, rubbing him gently, applying that calming pressure, “killing monsters, that’s one thing. Maybe, if you still have that kind of resolve tomorrow, I can start teaching you. But killing a person, that’s not the same. I don’t want you to carry that around, Sammy, you carry enough as it is.”

“You’ve done it.” 

“Yeah. That’s why I don’t want you to.”

“It’s my choice, Dean” Sam said, stubborn as ever. He could give in on the little things, letting Dean drive, but this was too big. In this, Dean had no say. 

Dean sighed. 

“I’ll take you there, Sammy, but I wish you’d let me do it. It won’t feel better afterwards, it will feel a lot worse. I promise.” Dean knew, some things Sam would try and do on his own if Dean didn’t help him, and it was the kind of things that would land him in jail – or dead. Hunting, killing pedophiles, that sort of thing. His brother wasn’t that much to fear right now, but he had it in him, like all Winchesters seemed to have.

Sam’s face was cut in stone. He wouldn’t give in on this. Troy should die, and he should be the one to do it. 

When he curled up to Dean, who had gotten them one king instead of two queens, totally ignoring the stupid clerk’s homophobic looks, he felt like he was going someplace for the first time in his life. Not being left behind, being stuck where he didn’t want to be. The empty feeling of meaninglessness was fading with his shiner. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

On the way to finding Troy (which wasn’t really that hard since Sam had names and an old address) they stopped to kill some kind of creature Sam never had heard the name of. He was once again watching his brother’s almost casual, but very deadly, violence. It didn’t scare him as bad this time. 

What did, though, was when Dean got a text message the morning they would go scout Troy’s place out. Dean’s face told Sam his brother still had some secrets he didn’t want Sam to know, but was about to being forced to anyway. Secrets that could be a danger to them (oh, watch out Sam, have you started with the “we” now, hoping this will last?).

“Dean, easiest if you just tell me right away” Sam said, with a shrill voice, even if he tried to keep it sharp and flat. 

Dean shook his head.

“I have to go away for a while next week, Sammy.” 

“No, you don’t. No leaving me behind. I won’t be there when you get back” Sam threatened in anger. 

Dean sighed. 

“Babe, this is worse than monsters. I don’t want you to know this part of me, don’t know if I can stand it.”

“Dean?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’ll tell you why I did… that.” 

Sam gestured at his wrist.

“I don’t like talking about it. But I will. You too. No secrets.”

Dean sighed again. He hugged his little brother, just hard enough to make him feel protected, on the verge of being choked, just the way Sam needed it.

“Fine. I got a job.”

“A case? I already know about those.”

“No, Sammy baby. Not a case. A job. I’ve been working jobs since I was about fifteen. No one suspects a fifteen-year-old. I could get into places Dad couldn’t. And hunting doesn’t pay, even if it costs. A lot, every now and then. All those shiny toys in the trunk, those are expensive as fuck.”

“What is this… job?” Sam said, scared of the answer but still needing to get it. 

“It’s this guy, Sam. I’m gonna go kill a guy. It pays very well, and I owe the bitch who texted me one. I have to.”

“Okay, Dean. It’s okay.” 

It wasn’t, not really. But Sam suspected it would be not too long from now. 

Dean took a long breath.

“Okay, babe, your turn. You let it out.”

Sam didn’t want to, but he had promised. He went digging in the memories of that dark, dank cellar where he was forced to lick his wounds whenever he refused to do what he was told, even if it was things no kid should ever have to do. In other words, he spent a lot of time there, because it was still better than the alternative. Memories of how the razor didn’t really hurt that bad, not to a kid like him, accustomed to pain as he was. How he thought afterwards that it was worth it, even if it failed, because it got him out of that house and out of that cellar. How Melanie might be the next one on his death list because she, too, was probably having a kid or two at her mercy right now. 

He felt Dean get tense, clenched jaw, but force himself to relax, to not show his violent side when what Sammy needed was something else.

“You are here now, Sammy. You are safe. And it was never, ever, your fault. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I know” Sam whispered, but it wasn’t true, not really. He still hated himself, still thought there must be something wrong with a kid that his own father wasn’t interested in keeping around or even visiting. And Dean could hear a lie a mile away. He let Sam go, backed just enough to cup his brother’s face in his hands, those strong hands that could hurt or heal, love or hate. Then he leaned in and gave Sam a soft kiss on the mouth. Sam didn’t kiss back, and his eyes widened, but he didn’t pull back. 

“Dean, that must be wrong” he mumbled.

“I have done enough wrong to last me a couple of lifetimes, babe. That was not wrong.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Troy hadn’t changed much. He still had that bitter frown, still stunk of old sweat and Old Spice, still looked like he hadn’t changed clothes for a week or so. Which he probably hadn’t. He usually only did when a social worker came around. He had two kids there, two young boys, with weary eyes and unkempt looks, familiar to Sam who was looking a bit better now, rings under his eyes gone and a little more color in his face since he started to sleep and eat properly.

Dean went in the next day, made a call ahead to let Troy know a new case worker was coming to check on them. His fake ID was as well made as his fake badge. As soon as he got Troy alone, he forced him to send the boys out on an errand that would take them at least an hour. Not hard to do, because Troy always made his kids run errands. Then Dean made a call and Sam snuck in the house at the end of the street. Troy didn’t like his neighbors to get in his business of abusing kids no one cared about or listened to, which worked against him now. No witnesses. When Sam entered the room, Troy’s eyes widened in fear.

“Remember me, Troy?” Sam said with the gun in his hand, showing the silencer to Troy. Dean had gagged his old tormentor who tried to beg Sam to forgive him with barely recognizable words. Troy was already beaten up, bleeding from his nose. His big brother had a temper, just like Sam. Only his temper was a lot more dangerous. 

Sam got his gun up, pointed it at Troy. But he couldn’t do it. He stood there for a long time. Dean knew Sam wasn’t going to do it, but he had to wait him out. Let him realize it on his own. Then Sam stepped closer, hit Troy in the face so hard he tipped back and fell to the floor.

“I can’t, Dean. I’m… I just can’t.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. I wished you wouldn’t, remember?” Dean said, stepped in and, without any hesitation, shot Troy in the head. Sam thought those dead, empty eyes, and the hole in the forehead, slowly starting to bleed, would follow him everywhere. But he had to look. Had to make sure Troy was really dead, really gone forever. 

Then he turned around and got into Dean’s arms. Dean, who got him out of there and three towns over before the kids returned and started to look for Troy.

\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Dean returned from the job, he was quieter than he’d been since he came to get Sam. He was clearly hung-over and reeked of sex. It hurt Sam, that Dean would find solace in that kind of thing and not him (no, he wasn’t jealous) (no, he didn’t think they were close for real). 

“Don’t like killing people, Sammy. I’ll be fine tomorrow. Just need some sleep.” 

Dean was tired, but he wasn’t broken. He was very bendy, had to be to survive. And he loved how Sammy curled up to him, even if he was jealous ( _you won’t care about “wrong” for too long, will you, babe_ , Dean thought before falling asleep).

One night apart, and Sam already missed sleeping next to Dean. He’d gotten addicted to the warmth and safety right away and even if he’d decided to not get into bed with Dean again, not feed his addiction, that resolution died the same second Dean invited him into bed. 

Two states over, Dean was back to himself again. Carefree. Smirking. Reluctantly agreeing to teach Sam the trade.

“This was never what I wanted for you, Sam.”

“What did you think would happen, I would sit around, waiting for you, never ask questions?”

Dean didn’t really have an answer to that. He had been selfish, maybe. Wanted Sammy around. But leave him at that hellhole they called a group “home”? No, that’d been worse. 

“I might have found us a case, by the way” Sam said, okay with the non-answer-answer.

“You what?”

“Yeah, I scoured the Internet, and I found these very weird deaths like maybe one day from here. Have a look” Sam said, turning the computer to Dean. 

“Mm-hm. Looks like you found your first case, babe. But that’s the easy part. You aren’t anywhere close to ready for the next parts.” 

“Get me ready, Dean. And then, get me to Melanie. I’ll do it this time.”


	3. Be like you to be with you or The end of the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John shows his true colors (if they were ever hidden) and Sam finds out just how many things his big brother can teach him.

Sam knew he wasn’t in shape. He knew he had to change that, learn a whole fucking lot, if he wanted Dean to do what he had asked for, get him ready. Dean wasn’t really loving the idea, though, but it would be good if Sammy knew how to defend himself. They were going on a hunt tomorrow. Sammy’s first case. God, did that kid learn fast – he got the laptop like yesterday. But his baby brother would in no way be killing anything for a good long while, just watching Dean do it. Right now, they were going to rest up a little bit in the latest of the shitty motels he had them staying in. After a while, they all looked the same. Despite his almost photographic memory, Dean had started to forget their names. 

“Okay, Sammy. Remember the rules I told you?”

“Rule number one: Know all you can. Rule number two: Adapt or die if you get it wrong.” 

“Good, sweetness. Now, we get to rule number three: There is no dirty fighting. Any and every move that gets the thing dead and keeps you alive is a good one.”

Boxing had not been like that. It had been all rules. But Sam was a good student, always ready to adjust and change perspectives. And he couldn’t kill anything if he was dead, so yeah, any advantage would be nice to have.

“Okay. So teach me those dirty moves” Sam said. 

Dean chuckled. 

“Sure, babe, but one step at a time. I’ve done this since I was four, remember? You won’t be catching up anytime soon.” 

There were other dirty moves he could teach Sam along the way, moves his baby brother could catch up with a lot faster. _Much more pleasant ones_ , Dean thought with a smile to go with that chuckle. 

Sam, who by now had given up on making Dean stop calling him pet names non-stop, was about to say something to that when Dean’s cell rang. Dean sighed and stared angrily at the phone to make it stop, but then growled and picked up anyway, putting the caller on speaker. No more secrets. 

“This is Dean.”

“Hello, Dean. We need to meet.”

His father’s voice. It sent shivers down Sam’s spine and not in a good way (not like Dean smiling did). 

“Why?”

“Because I say so, Dean!”

This was the voice of someone not used to questions. Someone who didn’t want a son, but a soldier. A private, following every order he barked out. 

“I’m here with Sammy, Dad.”

That shut John up for several seconds. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. So I won’t be meeting you anytime soon. We have a bit of catching up to do, me and Sammy.”

“Dean.”

“Yes?”

“You leave Sam wherever he is, and you come meet me. You have no business telling that kid anything.”

Sam felt tears welling up, as he realized John would never, ever want “that kid”. Dean was watching him, felt his heart break just a little bit more with every tear, but he knew this had to happen. Sam had to lose all hope about John to be able to let go, and he had to know, between the two, Dean would always be on his side. 

“I think that kid feels differently about that, Dad.”

“He certainly does,” Sam pushed out, “because he got kind of tired of being kicked around and sexually harassed years ago.” 

“…Sam?”

“Yeah, this is Sam, **John**. And you listen good, because this is the last you will ever hear from me. What you’ve done to me, that’s unforgivable. But what you’ve done to Dean… that’s the stuff you go to hell for. So I hope you enjoy your life, because I hear the sauna gets hot.” 

Sam’s voice got a little steadier with every word, especially since Dean’s free hand had found his, squeezed it with a reassurance Dean was right there with him and wasn’t about to leave.

“Dean? If you don’t get where I tell you to, leaving right this minute, I will make sure you’re never working jobs again, and the whole hunter community will turn its back on you, son!”

This time, Dean didn’t chuckle. He laughed, heartily. 

“Good luck with that, Dad, since you’ve pissed them all off one too many times. You know how many out of the ten last calls I’ve gotten entailed the wish to NOT include you in any business, cases OR jobs? Ten, that’s how many. So you go ahead and try turn them against me, Dad, because I have spent the last ten years building relationships, not tearing them apart.”

He had Jody Mills to thank for that, and the short three months John had left him there, while he was following up on an especially dangerous lead regarding old Yellow-eyes. Dean had cried for Dad to leave him with Sam instead, and that was the last time he ever cried in front of John. It had landed him an icy silence all the way to Jody’s. What John never told Dean was that he didn’t want the kids to get used to each other, because it would be harder to separate them again, to keep Dean from whining about his brother. Sam made Dean vulnerable, and John certainly didn’t have the time or patience to turn Sam into clay for him to shape as well or teach the boys to listen to him and not each other. Had he known Jody would teach Dean how to be a human being, he wouldn’t have liked that alternative either. He didn’t want a human being, he wanted a soldier without that kind of weakness.

Jody had done more than teach Dean feelings were okay, she had made him a better hunter. Hunters needed to build relationships, to be able to read people, relate to them. And now, Dean hadn’t only become a better hunter than John could have wished for, he had surpassed his father (John still being a legend did not mean anyone wanted him close, and it didn’t mean Dean wasn’t better, and soon would be known as the better Winchester). 

John hung up on them, probably tossing the phone, hopefully breaking it. Dean stared at his own phone in disbelief. Had he just killed his relationship with Dad? Probably. He could always call back, follow orders… but no, that was not going to happen. Because that meant leaving Sam, and **that** was **never** going to happen.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Sammy?” 

“Why didn’t Dad… John… ever love me?”

“Because he’s one stupid motherfucking asshole, that’s why” Dean answered, pulling Sam close. “He just broke when Mom died, Sammy, something snapped. He always said you looked just like her. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t look at you. But no matter what, you are the best thing that ever happened to this world.”

“Hardly” Sam scoffed. 

“Okay, then, sweetness. You are the best thing that ever happened to MY world.”

Sam’s hazel eyes lost that edge, that angry glare, as he turned to his brother, with a silent question. Could that really be true?

Dean pulled him close, and this time, instead of letting Sam rest his head on big brother’s shoulder, he gently entwined his fingers in Sam’s hair and kissed him. Sam’s eyes changed from questioning what Dean had said to questioning what Dean was doing. 

“You like that, don’t you?” 

“I really shouldn’t” Sam said, but he might as well have said “I love it” because that was what his entire being, and the tone of his voice, said.

“Mm, but you do, sweetness. Now think about all the other things I could teach you if you wanted.”

“Dean, really not a virgin here” Sam protested.

“Baby, you’re gonna think you are” Dean whispered in his ear.

“No. This is not what is supposed to happen. No.”

“Sammy? I’ll kiss you again, and then, you tell me you don’t like it and I’ll stop.”

Sam shivered. _So he likes me telling him what’s going to happen_ , Dean thought. _I don’t mind that, no, I very much like **that**_. Then he leaned in and kissed Sam again, slow, licking him open until Sam whimpered and caved, kissed him back until his lips were swollen and his cock was hard. Dean hadn’t been wrong, it felt like he’d never been kissed before, not like **that**. 

Dean had been taught to be disciplined in everything he did, always aim for perfection. It was imprinted in him so deeply he didn’t even think about it anymore, and he had done a whole lot of practicing and learning in _every_ aspect of his life.

“Now, you tell me you don’t like it, and no lies, because I will know” Dean said. 

Sam couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t think about anything but Dean’s lips. 

“Oh, so you do like it, babe.”

Sam finally found his words.

“Yes. And I guess that with all the wrong, bad things, that has happened to us, we can have one that is good.” 

He was, after all, quick to change perspectives and learn new things.

“Good baby. Now, I say we get to know each other better” Dean said, walking Sam backwards to the bed and gently prodding him to lie down. Sam was breathing heavy now, all needy lips and anticipation, but still insecure. 

“Sam, why don’t you lose your t-shirt, let me get a good look at you” Dean whispered, and Sam immediately pushed himself up enough for Dean to help him get it off. 

Sam **really** liked to be told what to do. It made him feel safe to have someone that confident and strong guiding him, and made it easier to do something his brain still insisted on was wrong even if his heart and soul (and certainly body) told him it was right. He didn’t have to rely on himself, not right here and right now. Dean could sense all of that, but he still wanted Sam to know, he wasn’t about to make Sam do anything he didn’t want to. 

“Sammy, baby?”

“Yes?” Sam answered, clinging to Dean’s body like he was drowning. 

“You know how to tell me red for stop?”

“And yellow for slow down, and green for go?”

“Yes. Exactly. I want you to tell me the second it’s too much, sweetness. The second. We have all the time in the world to try these things out.”

(That statement was sent up to Sam’s memory to savor later, because that meant Dean wanted him there, for all the time in the world.)

“But I’m usually…”

“Not with me, you are not” Dean told him, thinking this kid was so used to having to be in control, trusting no one, he had violated his own inner nature. Sam was a natural sub, no doubt about that. At least with him. 

Sam didn’t answer, he just relaxed. One last thought of doubt was going through his head, _Fuck, I do trust this guy, when did **that** happen?_ , but after that, he felt safe. Taken care of. Knowing his will was Dean’s rule. 

“Now, Sam, I usually don’t dive right in, but I know you (and weirdly, after so long, he did). We’re still taking it slow, though.” 

“Really no need, Dean.”

“Mm-hmm, so about me telling you what to do?” Dean said, keeping Sam in a tight embrace. 

“Green.”

“Then, Sammy, you don’t get to tell me what there’s no need for.” 

Sam whimpered. 

“No, Sir” he answered, the title just slipping out without him thinking about it. He had longed for that, not admitting to himself that was what he wanted, for a year now. Ever since he started having sex. 

“Mmm, I do like you calling me that, Sammy baby” Dean said and rewarded Sam by pushing him down on his back, his leg between Sam’s, his hip pressing against Sam’s erection. Sam tried to grind up against him, but he kept Sam pinned down. Sam made little protesting sounds. 

“How you feel right now, babe?”

“All green, but I’d really like more, Sir.”

“You’ll get more when I want to give you more, babe” Dean answered, kissing Sam again. Exploring his bare upper body, pulling Sam’s hair which made Sam moan into Dean’s mouth. _And, he likes pain, how very good for me_ , Dean mused. 

“So, sweetness, tell me. What you want me to do. Be specific.”

Dean’s fingers were on him. Very distracting. But Sam wouldn’t have had any good answer anyway. He hadn’t the experience to know specifics, not from this side. He just knew he wanted it, what Dean was offering him. Wanted to do what Dean told him to.

“I don’t know, Sir. I just know I want it, need it.”

“Thought you said really not a virgin, Sammy baby” Dean smirked.

“Thought you said you would make me think I am” Sam answered, little bit of defiance left in him. 

Dean pinched Sam’s nipple, sudden spike of pain going through his little brother. Sam moaned but damn if he didn’t try and arch into it, his free hand staying right where it was on the bed, clenching. His other one squeezing Dean’s back lightly. 

“What’s that?”

“I did say that, Sir.”

“And what color now, sweetness?”

“Green” Sam said with a tone of voice that confirmed that, and then some. 

“Sammy, I will give you what you need, show you what you want, but this will have to go slow, no changing that.”

Sam was so hard, he was wishing for anything but slow.

“Please Dean, I want this.”

“I know you do. But I also know the right way to give it to you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

(and he did, in the bed and outside of it, terrifying and completely)

“Good baby” Dean murmured, kept playing with Sam’s nipple, kissing his collarbone. Feeling how Sam tried to jerk his hips up against Dean. Dean gave Sam a good grinding, adjusting so that his dick would rub against Sam’s, making him moan.

“Please, Sir, more” Sam begged, so pretty now, no defiance left in him. No need to act like he didn’t need Dean to do what he was doing. 

“Now, Sammy, we’ll take it from the top. Let’s start with hands. You want to learn how to please me?”

“Yes, Sir” Sam breathed. He hadn’t known, but it was clear to him that was what he wished for, more than anything. 

Dean moved, got on top of Sam, sitting up with most of his weight still pinning Sam down. Not all of it though, he had no wish to crush that cute little lightweight. He unbuttoned his jeans. 

“This what you want?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Dean smiled. Then he got up for a second, watching Sam tremble. Got his clothes off and got right back, starting to jerk himself off. Sam stared, wishing he was allowed to do that for Dean. 

“Now you watch and listen, because I’m not in the habit of giving the same lesson twice” Dean said, mirroring what John used to say but in a loving, caring way. Getting those words to mean something else to him, healing up wounds he still had from a childhood where nothing was good enough. 

Telling Sam what he liked, showing him how to do it, that felt incredible. And virgin or not, Dean suspected (and was right about) that no one had told Sam how to please them. Most people were way to shy, but Dean had been shameless for years, growing up way too fast just as with everything else. The only way to really get what you wanted was to tell people what it was, and he had no trouble being specific. 

“Can I try, Sir?” Sam asked, still in his jeans, aching hard and straining against them, but he wasn’t allowed to take them off. And if he had to chose he’d rather get to try what he was learning. He kind of liked the way it hurt, anyway. 

“You didn’t think there was a reason for me not restraining those slutty hands of yours?” Dean asked, making Sam shiver. Dean was trying out new words and getting it just right. “Yes, you can, but don’t try, Sammy. Just do it like I’ve shown you.”

Sam was allowed to move to a better position for him to do just that, and he was an incredibly quick study. Not perfection, not yet, but enough for Dean to moan and fuck that hand of Sam’s, so wonderfully wrapped around his cock. He came all over Sam, in his face, and Sam’s tongue was out, licking up the cum he could reach. _My fucking god, he’s everything I could ever want_ , Dean thought as he was getting off Sam, finally allowing him to undress, shuddering as Dean’s hand got close to his raging erection. 

“Please, Sir, please” Sam pleaded.

“New lesson, Sammy. You don’t get to come until I tell you. Get it?”

Sam moaned. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Color, babe?”

“Green” Sam moaned.

Dean started to make it really hard for Sam to follow that order. Really fucking hard. Pain (not too much of it, not the first time) and pleasure mixing through those gifted hands and mouth, biting him lightly in all the right places, pinching his already sore nipple until he begged incoherently to be allowed to come. Sam kept doing his best, thinking about that gross monster Dean killed, about that cockroach under his bed at the group home, anything that would keep him from coming. 

“Good, baby, doing so good for me” Dean praised him. “You can come now, sweetness.” And Sam did, so hard he thought he might explode, might never get up of bed again because he had nothing left in him. He fell asleep just like that, pinned down under Dean who had gotten on top of him again (not entirely, because he didn’t want Sam to suffocate, just feel safe). Dean fell asleep thinking Sammy would learn very fast, just as he had suspected, and how awesome it was going to be to show his babe all the things still left to learn. There were so, so many. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

The next morning, Sam got his morning coffee in the car. They would make it just in time for the next attempted kill on the very exact timetable the preta was keeping. It puzzled Dean, the timetable thing, but he was still sure they were dealing with a preta. And that Sam was getting nowhere near killing it. Watching was the first step, just like with the other lessons.

“I want to finish that lesson we started yesterday, Dean.”

“Oh babe, I’d love to, but I’m kind of driving here and we’re on a hunt. I’ll give you all the lessons you want, later” Dean said, smirking.

Sam blushed. 

“Not THAT lesson. The one about hunting.”

Dean laughed, thinking teasing Sammy was going to be one of his favorite things ever.

“Oh. So where did we leave things?”

“Rule number three. Every dirty move allowed.” Sam blushed again. “STILL the hunter thing. That was what you said.” 

“I know, Sammy” Dean said, serious now. “And if you want to learn that, we need to get you stronger and faster. And a lot more than that.”

“I’m ready, Dean.”

“Okay. Let me tell you about pretas, then, because this isn’t just about the heavy lifting. We’ll start with rule number one.” 

“That one, I think I’ll be good at” Sam said. “I’ve always been good at that kind of thing.”

Sam was a very good listener, and he was making notes on his new laptop. It went painfully slow, him not used to typing and the car not the best place to do any typing in, but Dean still appreciated the effort. Proved Sam really wanted this, if he’d ever had any doubts about that. 

They stopped for lunch, and although it pained Dean, they did so at a vegan vegetable vitamin place, called something like “Cleansing and bullshit” (or at least that was what the menu said to him). But Sammy loved it, and he could probably need it, too. Taking care of your body meant doing all sorts of things he didn’t like, for example going for a run before bringing Sam his coffee. That wasn’t going to happen too often though, because from now on, Sammy was going with him. Dean made the same kind of faces Sam had when drinking whiskey, but he forced it down anyway, promising himself bacon later, trying to talk to Sam who was lost in his laptop as soon as he learned how to connect to the wi-fi. 

“Sammy, would you please get out of there? I’m trying to talk to you. What are you looking at anyway, finding out that the major part of Internet is porn?”

Sam turned the laptop for Dean to see. He was currently at a website for learning Latin. 

“Oh. Look, we ARE allowed to have some fun every now and then, Sammy. You need down-time to have the energy to work.”

“Dean, I have seventeen years to catch up on, which is like my entire life so far. I don’t have time for fun. I need to be like you to be with you, and I’ve decided that’s what I want. I intend to get it.” 

Dean smiled, proud, happy, and a bit sad at the same time. Sammy wanted this, for sure. And Dean was ready to teach him, keep him safe and happy, for as long as Sammy would let him. Which he believed would be pretty much their entire lives.


	4. Saving People, Hunting Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy starts his journey to become a hunter.

“Dean, I read all about these witchdogs now. It will be so much easier for you if I just do the incantation” Sam said, more irritated than pleading. “I won’t be in the fight, in fact the hellpuppies won’t even see me, I could hide!” 

Dean knew that might be true, but he also knew they were nowhere near letting Sam close to a fight. Months to go, probably. And if the witchdogs caught a whiff of what Sammy was doing? Not a good idea. 

Yesterday, the preta had bitten the dust. It had been a harder fight than he had expected, and he could tell from Sam’s shaking when it was all wrapped up he had been terrified Dean would lose. Of course, he didn’t. But he was totally exhausted when they got back to the motel, and for the first time fell asleep before his little brother, who (filled with adrenaline and unable to sleep) promptly had found them the next case, one Dean knew what it was without any research whatsoever. And now, they were in the car again, looking for a new shitty motel because even with Dean’s stamina, he’d rather not drive for more than twelve hours straight. Not if he didn’t have to. 

After checking in, Dean asked Sam if he wanted to grab a bite, or if he wanted to stay at the motel and Dean could go get them something. 

“I think some fresh air would be good, Dean. I don’t know how you can stay at those motels year after year, they suck.” 

“I know, sweetness, but they are very anonymous. And we need anonymous.”

“I kind of picked that up by now, Oliver Riedel.”

“Look, Sammy, I told you I have money to send you to school. I’ll get you a new identity. You don’t have to live like this, baby brother. I’ll set you up.”

Sam looked hurt.

“You know I don’t want that, Dean.”

But maybe Dean didn’t want him around, had decided he was more work than he was worth.

Dean stopped, got him in that rough hug that always made him feel better. 

“Sammy, I want you with me. But it’s selfish to keep you around just because of that. I want you to be safe, and warm, and happy.”

“Sure, gramma” Sam said, but his arms found their way inside the leatherjacket that smelled so good, it made him believe he could be safe, and warm, and happy. With Dean. 

“That mean you want to keep living in crappy motels, sweetness?”

“If you make me a hunter, I want to. Hunters are bad-ass, they can take crappy motels any day.”

Dean sighed. 

“I kind of picked that up by now, wannabe.”

The diner was just the kind of place Dean liked, low profile and with lots of extra bacon to be had. He noticed how Sammy’s eyes grew darker when the waitress flirted with him. Even sounded a little bit hostile when he ordered. 

“What’s wrong with our waitress, Sammy?” Dean snickered. 

Sam blushed. 

“I don’t like the way she flirts with you, is all” he answered, truthfully. He’d come to understand it was meaningless to try and hide things from the natural born liar that was Dean Winchester, aka Oliver Riedel, aka Syd Barett, aka Officer Hetfield. Dean knew way too much about the art of not telling the truth, or not telling all of it. 

“Babe, I’m going home with you, promise. No more waitresses as long as you stay with me. They are kind of like the motels anyway, starting to all blend together. You know I’ve called the last three of them Marcia? Don’t know why, it just keeps happening. They really don’t like that.”

Sam felt that statement make him warm, make him think about what Dean could do to him. Maybe would if he asked nicely enough. Then he made a little annoyed face. How many of those waitresses had Dean had, really? 

During dinner, Dean asked Sam a lot of questions about witchdogs. He was content with the answers, Sam really had done his homework. 

“And Latin?”

“Unus, duo, tres, quattuor, quinque, sex, septem, octo, novem, decem.”

“Good start. Maybe you should get a reward.”

Dean loved to see how those words affected Sam, made him breath just a tiny bit faster, imagining what the reward could be. 

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I want this” Sam stated, looked Dean right in the eyes. 

_Well played, Sammy_ , Dean thought, and took the conversation in another direction. He didn’t mean for himself to be teased, even if he very much liked it. 

“We’ll see. Tomorrow, we’re putting those smoker’s lungs to the test. You’re going on a run with me.”

Dean had no intentions of making Sammy work as hard as he himself had done growing up. There were plenty of hunters out there not half as well trained as Dean, but still doing a freaking good job. But he wanted Sam to be as safe as a hunter could be, and that meant give him strength and stamina, two things he was in sad lack of right now. And, of course, he would always have Dean Winchester for back-up. That was Sam’s unique advantage. 

When they got back, full and a bit drowsy, Dean kicked his jeans off and got into bed. He just wanted to lay there for a while, rest, and stretched his arms out, letting Sammy know he was welcome to join. Sam did, putting his head comfortably in Dean’s shoulder nook, a skinny arm around Dean. Dean looked down on it.

“Gonna have to gain some muscle, Sammy. For hunting. Me, I’m fine both ways.”

Dean had learnt he had to give Sam a lot of reassurance. If he hadn’t told his baby brother he liked that amazing body of his just the way it was – too – Sammy would have thought Dean didn’t. 

“Sure. I’ll just hit the gym at the next fancy hotel we sleep in” Sam answered. 

“Oh, you won’t need a gym. You just need me.”

Sam pressed himself against Dean.

“You know, I almost think you could be all I need.” 

That was a grand exclamation of love from Sam Winchester, half hidden for his own protection, still scared to let it out openly. Dean rubbed his brother’s back and side, blew a little warm air in his hair. Just like he had done when they were kids. Only now, there was more between them than being brothers. 

“Love you too, Sammy.”

And that was it for the night. Dean knew very well that Sammy wanted more which he would get eventually, but the lesson tonight was he didn’t decide when. Dean did. And he knew that Sammy needed that to feel safe, taken care of, no matter how frustrated he was gonna get. 

The next morning, Sam didn’t get to sleep in, waiting for morning coffee to arrive, like he was getting used to. Dean shook him awake. 

“Time to get up, Sammy. Get your new, shiny clothes and shoes on. We’re going for a run.” 

Sam looked like he wanted to kill Dean. 

“Get to it” Dean said, not caring whether Sam liked being awake at this hour or not.

“I’ll get to it, Dean. But it’s like the middle of the night. When it’s dark out, it’s nature telling us to sleep.”

“You wanna gimme lip or you wanna be a hunter, Sam?” Dean replied harshly. No pet names today. 

“Hunter” Sam said, finally getting out of bed and clumsily, still only half awake, getting dressed. 

Five minutes later, they were jogging at a pace Dean could keep _backwards_ if needed, but Sam had to work hard to keep at all. Sam hadn’t moved a muscle in years, and at five in the morning, a run was not what his body wanted to do. He strongly suspected this was a test, to see if he wanted to be a hunter as bad as he had stated several times. Five more minutes, and he started to feel like he was going to throw up, while Dean looked like he wasn’t even half through warm-up (which he really wasn’t, he needed to pick up the pace to even break a sweat). 

“Having fun there, baby bro?” Dean teased, talking like he was watching Netflix.

“Not… really” Sam panted. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. But very, very soon. 

Sam’s will-power was put to the test, and it proved a lot stronger than his body. Ten minutes later, he hurled at the side of the road while Dean was laughing at him. 

“We got work to do, Sammy. Lots of it. But I’ll get you there.”

When Dean had gotten Sam back to the motel, he went for an actual run. Returned to a newly showered Sam, still a bit green, but with that determined face that Dean had re-learnt meant he wasn’t about to give in. A face he had had since childhood, only a lot cuter now that he was grown up, or well, almost grown up anyway. 

“How often do we do that, Dean?”

“Because you have a very limited time span before you start hurling, I’d say mornings and evenings. But you let me know the second, and I mean the second, your knees or anything else start to hurt. We do **not** have time to get stuck in rehab. Trust me on that, baby brother. 

Sam nodded, put the instruction right next to the other things in the folder called “Things Dean Says That I Need To Listen To” up in that busy brain of his. He had deflected all learning not attached to hunting somewhere far away for the moment, maybe to end up in the trash can. 

“And we really have to do it at five in the morning every single day?”

“Will that stop you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Back in the car, Sam took out the laptop to read some stuff he downloaded at breakfast, but stopped to ask a question. 

“Will you teach me how to drive, Dean?”

“Baby? No way” Dean scoffed. 

“But it would be good to be able to take turns.”

“Sure, sweetness, but you are not driving Baby. Not until you’ve shown me you can do that without hurting her. Maybe not then, either.”

“Dean, it’s a car.”

Dean gave him a real icy look and patted the car. 

“Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he talks about” he cooed.

Sam rolled his eyes but started to read. He had, as he himself had stated, a lot to catch up with. 

They rolled into town right before lunch, and Dean stopped at City Hall. 

“Time to try your wings, Sammy honey. We are now graduates in dire need of some city plans to complete our thesis.”

“Ehrm, Dean, I really don’t look the part.”

“I know you don’t. But if you believe it, they will. Now use those skills you picked up talking to social services and lie through your teeth, Sammy. I’ll take the lead.” 

“How do you know I lied to social services?”

Dean looked at him until Sam jumped out of the car. Yeah, that _had_ been a stupid question. 

“Now, Sam, witchdogs love sewers. I hate them for that, but the one good thing about it is we know how to find them. Look for any space big enough to hold a pack, and with only one entrance.”

Sam concentrated, ran his fingers over the map. Dean watched him instead of the map, let Sam have a try. He already knew the right answer, he wanted to see if Sam could find it, which he of course did. 

“There’s two spaces. Here, and here.”

“And which one will they be in?”

Sam wrinkled his forehead.

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Look at the other map, Sam” Dean answered, not about to give Sam more than that.

Sam suddenly smiled. 

“One of them is right under the fire department AND a disco, and those fuckers hate noises. And they have like super-hearing.” 

“Good boy, Sammy. You really are good at following rule number one.”

“That mean I get to come?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” Dean answered, let the obvious comment be for the moment.

“No, we’ll cross it right now!”

Dean sighed, wearily. He had been around nine when John had started bringing him out in the field. Sam was seventeen, after all. 

“Fine. But we’ll have to plan this very, very well, Sammy. You learn nothing from being killed, except that it wasn’t a good idea going down there and not have the ability to outrun grandpa Moses.”

Sam smiled, ear to ear. Then he got a little worried.

“You sure the incantation will work, and consecrate a flame thrower? It’s meant for a torch, you know.”

“Sammy, you know Jews shouldn’t light a fire during Shabbat, and that means some of them won’t use electricity, either? Old rules adapt to new environments.”

“That is so not the same.”

“Close enough” Dean said with that devilish smile of his. “And, also, I’ve done it before.”

“You know, next time, lead with that” Sam grumbled. 

Down in the sewers, Sam started to question the choice to come with. His hands trembled slightly. 

“You sure about this, Sammy? Still time to turn back, you know.”

That was it for Sam. He would not give in, not turn back.

The witchdogs were asleep at this hour, probably. Sam snuck into the little space situated right before the bigger one, prepared the ritual that ended with an incantation that would allow Dean to kill the dogs, not just hurt them. Dean was gone for a moment, came back and gave Sam a nod. The dogs were there, sleeping. Sam threw the herbs in the bowl, lit them up, which of course made a sound, and started to half whisper the incantation. He had to do this right, not mumble, or it wouldn’t work. Those small sounds were enough for the dogs to wake up and come for them, Dean lighting them up with a fire that wouldn’t yet kill them. The fire wouldn’t stay consecrated for long, so when Dean made a twirl slow enough for Sammy to throw the remains of the things in the bowl right into the flame licking the walls outside the space he was crouching in, Dean didn’t stop to make sure Sam had hit the mark. He just turned right back and lit the howling motherfuckers up, turning them to dust. 

“Good job, Sammy” he said, watching the last one crumble to pieces. It _would_ have been hard doing this on his own. He could have called in another hunter, of course, but that would have taken time, time for the dogs to kill another kid – and Dean didn’t always play well with others, it took effort on his side to keep these relationships in top shape. 

Sam got out and stretched his legs, shaky from the situation and from the uncomfortable crouching. He smiled so big his face hurt. 

“Saving people, hunting things, it really is what I was born to do, Dean. Feels like I’ve been missing this my whole life.”

Dean had never felt _that_ much enthusiasm about it, simply because he’d been forced into the life. Now, he felt it rub off on him, realizing this was the life he wanted, needed, as long as he had Sammy by his side. He cupped Sammy’s face, rubbed that cute cheekbone with his thumb. One perfect part of one perfect human being. _His_ human being.

“Then I’ll teach you, sweetness. Be good to have some back-up every now and then.”


	5. Haunted Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starts out with some porn, ends up on a very very much darker note. Dean learns that Sam has more inside him than he ever guessed.

When they arrived back to the motel, Sam was still high on adrenaline and endorphins, exhilarated from the hunt. Dean, not so much. He mostly wanted a shower and some bad TV, maybe a pizza later. Or, preferably, burgers. 

“Sam, if you try and find as another case right now I will do two things. One, put another hunter on it. And two…”

“…punish me good and proper?” Sam ended the sentence with a mischievous grin. “You seem a bit tired for that, big brother. Maybe those years are weighing on you.”

Dean hadn’t really planned to do anything like that, no. But it would be nice to show Sammy what that kind of audacity could get him. 

“Oh, you think so? Seems to me, out of the two of us, there’s not really any question about who’s got endurance, vomit boy” Dean smirked. “But if you’d like to try me, fine. Come here.”

Dean really needed a shower, but Sam could use one, too. And Sam almost jumped up from the bed to follow Dean into the bathroom.

“Undress” Dean said, casually dropping his own clothes to the floor, seemingly unknowing how his naked body affected Sam (which he, of course, in no way was). He pulled his baby brother in the shower, where it was kind of cramped for two people, but still spacy compared to some motels Dean had slept in over the years.

“Hands against the wall, Sammy” Dean ordered, and lathered them both, making Sam tremble with his touch. Dean was teasing him, not touching him any more than necessary where Sam really, really wanted to be touched, not giving him any pain to enjoy. No, he was just cleaning them up after a hunt. 

“Please, Dean” Sam said, trying to press himself against his older brother, but Dean wasn’t having it. A stern arm kept Sam at the tiny distance the shower would allow. 

“Not so funny anymore, are you, Sammy?”

“Please, I’ll be good” Sam answered with a thick voice. He was very responsive, barely needed touching to be ready. Just the way Dean loved it. 

“What’s that?” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear, biting it just a little bit, reminding Sammy of the pain he was wishing for. 

“Please, Sir, I’ll be good” Sam answered quickly.

“Oh, you will, babe. You will.” 

Dean cut off the water, for once not cursing the shower for the lousy water pressure these places always offered. He had other things to think about. 

“On your knees, Sammy.”

Sam was down on his knees almost before Dean had finished the sentence, hazel eyes begging him to give Sam what he had wanted ever since he got it last time. 

“Now, next lesson, sweetness. You want to suck my cock, don’t you?”

Sam nodded eagerly. Dean reached down, grabbed Sam by that long hair ( _we have to get him a better haircut, but I like it long,_ Dean thought) and pulled his head back. Hard. 

“When I ask you something, you answer.”

“Yes, Sir, I would love to suck your cock, thank you Sir” Sam said, struggling a bit to make it hurt more. 

“Color, babe?”

“Green.”

“Good. Then you listen up, because most people don’t get this quite right.” 

Sam was a very fast learner, though, listening and doing exactly what he was told, until Dean couldn’t keep from fucking that perfect mouth. He had to use every bit of self-restraint he had to stop, making Sam take a break. Sam whined.

“Don’t worry, sweetness, you’ll get it back. But you have your mouth full now, Sammy, so I need you to tap my hip if this gets to be too much. Not everyone loves to gag on dick, and if you don’t, that is perfectly fine, you get it? I do NOT want you to keep going if you don’t love it. That’s an order.”

“I love it, Dean.”

Dean nodded, and when he felt Sam’s hands on him, ready to tell him to stop if needed, he stopped holding back. Sam didn’t just love it, he excelled at it. Dean thought he might explode, that Sam wouldn’t be able to take it, but of course his little brother did, swallowing all of it all almost in reverence. 

“Oh my fucking god, babe, maybe you are born to be a hunter, but there’s no doubt you were born to do _this_. 

“I did good, Sir?”

“Very good, baby. Now, let’s watch some TV.”

“What” Sam breathed. “No, please, please, Sir, I need…”

“Should have thought about that before being a little brat, now shouldn’t you, Sammy?”

Dean quickly washed himself off and soon, he was comfortable (or as comfortable as was possible in the bad quality bed) watching TV, Sam and him in only boxers, one of them with a very visible tent situation. 

“We should get to bed early today, another early morning run is coming your way tomorrow, babe” Dean said, playing almost absently with Sam’s nipple. Sam thought he might cry of frustration, but he was going to try and please Dean now, because he knew that was the only way he would ever get what he wanted. 

“Yes, Sir” Sam answered, trying not to rub his cock against Dean. 

“Where’s the funny retort, Sammy?” Dean snickered.

“You want me to be funny, Sir?” Sam asked.

“No, sweetness. I want you to be obedient, and it seems you’ve learned your lesson.” 

“Yes, Sir” Sam said with hope in his voice. 

“Oh no, babe, you’re not getting anything tonight. We’re going for burgers in a minute, and then we’re going to sleep. Maybe, if you do good tomorrow, I’ll let you come. Maybe.”

Sam didn’t think he would ever be able to relax and sleep. When he finally did, he was woken up almost immediately, or so it felt to him anyway. He forced himself to shut up and hurry up, get dressed and repeat the horrible experience of running way too early and, this time, also without sleep. But he did his absolute best, and Dean let him off the hook easy. He felt almost okay when they returned after a very short jog. 

“You did good, babe. Now, you want to go back to sleep?” Dean asked, with a voice that left no doubts about what Sam might get if he stayed awake.

“No, Sir” Sam said, slid into his submissive role without a second’s hesitation. 

“Undress and lie down on the bed. Gonna taste that sweet sweat of yours” Dean said, and did. His Sammy was begging from the moment Dean’s tongue hit his body, begging so pretty, and then he was finally rewarded with crazy pleasure as Dean Winchester showed him what a blow-job could be like, squeezing Sam’s hips so hard they would bruise, because no, Sam was not allowed to fuck Dean’s mouth. Dean didn’t stop for long when he tried, though, because he had made Sam wait long enough. He just growled a “no, stay still” and helped Sam to do so. Sam really wanted to do what he was told, but it was very hard, and Dean knew that. When Sam got to come, he did so in wave after wave, thinking nobody had ever come this hard or this long in the entire history of the world (which he would revise, later, when he broke the record himself). 

Afterwards, Dean was again using his own weight to make Sam feel safe and warm, praising him, massaging his body as it calmed down. Sam fell asleep and slept until he had caught up on the missing sleep that night, Dean working on the computer, watching his brother sleep. So cute, so innocent and gorgeous. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

That night, they arrived at a random motel in a random town, that just happened to be on the way to where Dean wasn’t going, because he had no destination to reach. He just drove, let Baby find her way, enjoying some down-time with his baby brother, who was asking him questions about hunting until Dean almost smacked him. This was like when Sam was four and had seemed to be saving up all the questions he had over the months they spent apart. It just. Didn’t. End. 

“Okay, Sam, time to shut up and run.” 

This time, Dean wasn’t satisfied with Sam running. He wanted some muscle, and he knew just the way to get it without a gym, because when did he have time to find a gym? Almost never, that was when. He had to use the time he got wisely (and, truthfully, he just loathed the people sometimes found at those places, sassing around like they owned the place because they had managed to look like they were strong). Then, he put Sam’s reflexes to the test. Not very fair, Sam’s muscles almost turned into jelly, but that was how hunts went sometimes. His brother had been the kind of boxer that would have gotten good in the end, but Dean was concerned about that, because it meant Sammy was used to fighting someone who stuck to the rules. That, his little brother had to get over, and fast. 

Sam was on the ground, back to the state where he was wondering how long it would be before he threw up again, but he dodged the bullet and slowly calmed down. 

“Good job, Sammy.”

“I suck, Dean. Majorly.”

“Everybody does when they start out. Be happy you’re seventeen, this is going to go fast if you just keep at it.”

“Oh, I will. This fucking horrible shit won’t keep me from becoming a hunter” Sam said, his eyes a shade darker than usual. 

Dean smiled, that smile that felt like the warmth of the sun on bare skin a summer day. Sam wouldn’t put it like that out loud, though. Way too gooey. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

The next morning, Sam pushed his body through running although it felt like even his fucking **nails** were sore. He remembered the feeling from his stint as a boxer, but he’d always tried to get away as easy as he could back then. This time, his heart was in it. And it was in no way as uncomfortable and painful as some things in his life had been. 

After taking a shower, he wanted to talk about one of those. Or, the cause of it. 

“Dean?”

“Yes, sweetness?”

“I want to go after Melanie.” 

“Not sure how I feel about you becoming a killer, Sam. You decided not to with Troy. Let’s keep it at that.”

“You are one.”

“Which means I know what I’m talking about. We’ve been through this.”

“Are you going to stop?”

Dean sighed.

“Probably not. It’s how I make money and, weird as it sounds, it’s a lot easier to get away with than lots and lots of smaller things. Gotta lay off the credit cards for a while now, by the way. Cash only.”

“Don’t you feel bad, killing innocents? Because if you can live with that, then I can live with this.”

“First, yeah, the jobs make me feel bad. Why do you think I got stinking drunk and then some last time? Second, the people I kill are never innocent. Don’t mean they deserve to die, though.” 

“Melanie does.”

“Maybe she does. But where does it end, Sammy? When are you done?”

Dean’s voice, gritty as ever, sincerely asking him how far he was ready to take this. Because he was worried. 

“Thought you said nobody who hurt me would get away with it.”

“And I meant it, Sammy. I’ll rip all their throats out. But me, I’m a killer, was raised to be one. You, you are something else, and I don’t want you to go down a road you won’t be coming back from.” 

Sam nodded, jaw clenched, but when he met Dean’s eyes again, it was with resolve.

“I get that, Dean, I really do. And Melanie will be the last one. But I need this.”

Dean sighed, shook his head a little bit.

“Why, Sammy? It was years ago. I know you will never forget, but killing her will just be one more thing you will never forget. I could have it done in a day or two.”

“No. You are not doing it for me. And what she did to ME is years ago. But what’s she’s doing now…”

“Sam, how do you know what she’s doing now?”

Sam bit his lip, squirmed, but Dean wouldn’t let him off the hook, grabbed him by the arms, held him right where he was. 

“I saw it.”

“Where, Sammy? You go online?”

Sam looked straight into the green fire, now scorching his attempts to hide the truth.

“No, Dean, I didn’t go online. I…” Sam had tears in his eyes, but he pushed the words out, tears in his throat or not. “I dreamt it, okay? And I know it’s the truth. These dreams, they never lie. Missouri told me I’ve got the Sight, only I never wanted it, tried getting away from it. But the dreams… sometimes they come back. Won’t leave me alone. So that’s how I know. That’s why I have to stop it.”

Dean almost staggered backwards hearing this. Why had Sammy never told him when they were kids, when he had held him after the nightmares? And this… it was no easy cross to bear, not even for people who hadn’t had their psyches crushed by neglect for years. He didn’t back away, though. Instead he cloaked Sammy in that close-to-suffocating hug. 

“Oh baby, why didn’t you tell me? I’m here now, sweetness. I got you.”

Something cold was touching Dean inside. Something that had to do with Sam and the Sight. Something John had said, and Dean needed to remember. Right now. He ordered his brain to see it, hear it, like he had learnt to do with any information he needed. But this, it happened before he’d started to do that. It eluded him, all blur, like a ghost in the shadows, there one moment and gone the next, impossible to see clearly. And right now, he had more pressing matters to take care of.

“You don’t think I’m a freak?”

“Sammy, if you hadn’t noticed, I kind of swim in freaks on a daily basis. You are not one. And even if you were, it doesn’t matter. You are my brother and I love you. I will take care of you whatever happens.” 

Sam cried. Muffled little cries, making Dean hold him even closer and looking up, tears in his own eyes. He might be a killer, he might be raised to only hate, never love, see the world in black and white, but John had failed to achieve what he was aiming for. Dean did not have a cold heart, never had. His father might have wanted him to kill things, but he was saving people. Always had. And he was going to save his brother. 

“Let it out, baby. Let it all out. I’m right here. Always will be.”

“Dean?” Sam said, face striped with tears, “will you help me, then?”

“Honey, what I wouldn’t do for you, we’ll never find out.”

\--- --- --- --- --- 

No matter how Dean tried, Sam wouldn’t change his mind, even less when they had seen Melanie outside of Sam’s dreams. The kids she had at that house, Dean couldn’t believe anyone could even pretend they had a good home, or even a somehow adequate one. Had his Sammy looked like that? Had those haunted eyes, right before he slit his wrists in desperation? It was almost too much to bear, and he felt his nails biting into his hands. He was going to kill this bitch, alright. Or he would let Sammy do it. 

“How do we do this, Dean?” Sam asked, pale and serious. 

“Depends. We have to get those kids out of the way. We can try to move them, like we did with Troy’s, or we can try and nap her.”

“I want her in that cellar, Dean.” 

Dean nodded solemnly. 

“Okay, Sammy. The cellar it is. I’d say the easiest way is to do it when the kids are at school.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

Sam didn’t enjoy seeing Melanie gagged and bound, so scared her eyes bulged out of her head, but it gave him some kind of cold satisfaction. 

“You recognize me, Mel? The kid who tried to off himself to get out of this fucking cellar?”

Melanie nodded, tried to beg for forgiveness. It was hard to make out the words, not that it would matter. Sam knew a lot better than to think she really meant any of it. She hardly could, because she didn’t have the ability to be sorry. 

Melanie didn’t realize that the worst danger to her was leaning against the wall, one foot up on the wall, seemingly perfectly relaxed, but with such hate in those green eyes. This was the bitch that had made his little brother almost kill himself. For a few moments, he wished Sam would leave to give him the chance to show her how he felt about that. He didn’t want to do those things with Sammy watching. 

Sam stood there, eyes almost black with hatred. He raised the gun. Looked Melanie straight in the eye, and pulled the trigger. Dean twitched at the sound for the first time in years, scared of what this might do to his little brother. Sam fell down to his knees as blood trickled down from Melanie’s mouth. Dean was there with him, whispering to him. Sam got up, turned to his brother with that determination pouring out of him, now reinforced with titanium. 

“Thank you, Dean.”


	6. Meaner Than My Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to know a little bit more about how Dean grew up and what that has done to him. Trigger warning for drugs/alcohol and self harm, this is a dark one, guys. But in the dark, the Winchesters always find each other.

Dean was pouring himself a whiskey, not quite sure how many he’d had already. He watched his brother sleep, his brother that less than ten hours ago had become a killer. A murderer. He’d started out wishing Sam wouldn’t have to hunt. Now he’d helped his brother do something a lot worse than killing monsters. 

Sam had been quiet in the car when they got some distance between them and the cold dead body Dean had hidden in the cellar, giving them more of a head start. When your brother wanted to kill the person who had made him want to take his own life, you being a professional hitman wasn’t such a bad thing. If you thought it was anywhere close to normal, to good, not to stop him. Dean could have. At least for a while. Had he lost all grip of right and wrong? Had he condemned Sam to darkness? Problem was, Sam had already lived there when Dean found him. He already had the scars on his wrist, had that deep-rooted belief he wasn’t good enough to be loved. Darkness was well known to him.

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, resting on his elbow. He’d secured this room, this house, whose residents were vacationing right now, as best he could. Salt lines, any and every symbol he knew. The owners would probably think they’d have Satanist squatters living there if he didn’t clean it all up, which of course he would. But tonight, he had the luxury of losing control, just for a few hours. Drink some whiskey. 

He breathed in deeply, a pained expression on his face, giving Sam, sleeping, a long look. He shouldn’t, not with Sammy there. But he rubbed his face in his hands, felt himself giving up, sneaking up and reaching inside the secret pocket inside the duffel bag. He was not proud of this. In fact, he was deeply ashamed. He sat there, pills in hand, stared at them. It should be months between those little breaks he gave himself, and he popped some right after his last job. And after the job before that. The same kind he had in his hands now. The ones that would knock him out. Which was bad enough to want to do last time, but now Sam was here, and it was worse. Sam could wake up, have a nightmare. Need him.

In the end, his need to make the thoughts quit chasing each other out of his control was bigger than his resolve not to get messed up when Sam was sleeping in the same room. If he could have, he would have left. But that would’ve been even worse. He chased the pill down with another whiskey. 

Dean had been drinking whiskey since he was fifteen, since that first job. John didn’t have the patience to try and help his son, all kinds of fucked up inside after killing someone. A human being. Easier just feeding him whiskey ‘til he passed out. And teach him to repress, push down. 

This time, it wasn’t he who had killed someone, but this was almost worse. He knew Sam was two years older than he’d been, and that Sam had chosen to do this because he needed to stop Melanie from hurting kids, but still. He had let Sam do it. He was teaching him how to kill. Just like John had taught him. Tears came trickling down Dean’s cheeks as he was close to unconscious. He swallowed the last pill, the one he knew wasn’t really needed but couldn’t stop himself from taking anyway, emptying the whiskey bottle. Then he stumbled to bed with the room moving around him. Had he been just slightly less used to force his body to do things in whatever state he was in, no matter how much it hurt or how much his head spun, he would have ended up on the floor. As it was, he didn’t. He fell asleep on top of the bed, fully dressed and with his shoes on. 

He woke up to a painful light, and a sound that got louder and louder. A sound that slowly turned into words, a voice. 

“Dean! Wake up! Are you okay?”

Dean blinked, forced himself to wake up. Almost, at least. The room was still moving, and he knew he’d overdone it, but he couldn’t really remember what “it” was, like he knew but he didn’t know. He was dazed, every thought taking forever to pass through his brains. Something was good about that, wasn’t it? Something he had aimed for. Couldn’t have been this, exactly, though. He tried to get up, sit up, but failed. 

“I’m ‘wake, I’fine.”

Sam sat down next to him. 

“No, you’re not.”

Sam analyzed what he saw. Empty whiskey bottle, Dean reeking of booze, sure. But the state Dean was in? The way he slurred? The way his eyes had looked when he tried to force them? Sam had seen that before. In one of his family homes and during the short time he spent on the street. In the group home, before they took his roommate to rehab. Sam put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What did you take, Dean?”

“Jus’ sleep a li’le. Be goo’in a fe’hours.”

“Sure, Dean” Sam said, so sad, ashamed of what he’d done to Dean. Because why else would his strong, carefree big brother have done something like that? He put a blanket over Dean, and sighed. What should he do now? His hand lingered on Dean’s back, and the scars on his own wrist caught Sam’s eye. He remembered the razor splitting the skin in two, blood starting to flow, warm against the skin. Most people fail their first time. Suddenly he felt an urge to find a knife, hurt himself for hurting Dean. Not like that, just until it hurt. He resisted, clenched his jaws and left the room. Found another room, one where he could make his body work until his legs were shaking and then some. He kept at it, over and over again, all the things Dean had taught him to do to get stronger. Finally, he just couldn’t move anymore. He had to lie down for a long while, shaking and almost hurling, chest heaving. But he had gotten the worst of it out. He could be there, now, when Dean woke up. 

Then he got up from the floor, made coffee (very nice coffee), carefully avoiding any windows where people could spot him. Dean had said they couldn’t stay too long, someone might show up, someone taking care of the house while the family was gone. Problem was, Dean was not going anywhere anytime soon, and he sure as hell shouldn’t drive. 

Sam took a shower, checked how Dean was doing – still sleeping. He went to his old backpack, digging all the way down to the bottom. Fished out the cigarettes. If there was ever a time to break the promise not to smoke, this would be it. He had bought new ones when Dean was at the bathroom at a gas station. Just in case. Not that he was going to. But now, he needed it. He snuck out back, where the garden was carefully guarded from the outside. This family wanted privacy. He sat there, smoking one, two, three cigarettes. Suddenly, the back door opened, and Dean was in the doorway. He was leaning against it. 

“Sorry, Sammy” he said, sat down next to him, wobbling. “I’m so sorry.” 

Sam didn’t say a word, he just offered Dean the smokes, which his big brother accepted. They smoked together, just sitting there.

“I’ll get coffee, Dean. I’m sorry too. My fault you did that to yourself.” 

“Not your fault, sweetness” Dean said, even deeper and more hoarse than usual. “I’m a bit fucked up, ‘s all. Blame Dad, if anyone. I’ll be fine, Sammy. Promise.”

Hearing that pet name cut deep in Sam, but he didn’t answer, just touched Dean’s shoulders before he went in to get a coffee for his big brother. They sat there, together, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, both scarred but in different ways.

“We have to go now, Sam. If they find you or your DNA here, and they connect the dots with Melanie, we’re in trouble. And we’ve been all over this house. I think safest bet is to burn it down. I don’t really want to stay and clean up your prints all over the kitchen. I’ll just set the accident up, and we’re off. Not in shape to fix it the other way.”

Dean got up, stumbled, found his balance and walked into the house. 

Less than twenty minutes later, they were leaving the house. Both of them wore big hoodies, walked through a park before they reached the black Impala. And Dean swore the report would say it was some problem with the electricity. They should be in the clear. 

“Dean, you really shouldn’t drive.”

“Not my first rodeo, Sammy. I’ll get us out of here, find somewhere to stop where I can get some more shut-eye right here in my Baby. And Sammy… best you can do, is not thinking this is your fault. Then I will feel bad that you are feeling bad because I was less than happy yesterday, which will probably make you feel bad, and now my head hurts. More. Please, just let this be what it was, me needing a little rest.”

“Not the best way to get rest, Dean” Sam said. “But okay, I see your point. I’ll try.” He gave Dean an angry look. “You still shouldn’t drive.”

Dean laughed, a dry, tired laugh.

“Sweetness, not the most dangerous thing that will happen to us, not even close.” 

Dean did what he said he would, got them out of there, found a place to stop where no police would wake him up. While Dean was sleeping it off, Sam was googling away. He had to stop thinking about it all somehow, and reading up on lore, looking for weird deaths, that helped. Like any other American hunter, he started to use hunting as a way to repress his own problems. 

When Dean woke up, it had started to get dark again. 

“How long was I out for?”

“Couple of hours. Doesn’t matter. I found us a case.” 

“What?” Dean said, drowsy and rubbing his eyes. 

“Found us a case. Figured you’d like something else to think about, and I believe my revenge-killing-days are over.”

“Sammy, this is a lot better waking-up than the last one” Dean said. Then he reached for a pill bottle in the glove department. “Just aspirin, honey, don’t worry.” 

“You admit it, then? You took something?”

Dean grew quiet. Then he said, in a flat voice, “When I was sixteen, my leg was messed up on a hunt. You know what Dad did?”

“No” Sam said, knot in his stomach.

“He fed me a nice little cocktail of painkillers and uppers, because we weren’t done. There were still evil son-of-a-bitches to kill. That I’m off pills at all, Sammy, is a miracle. Yesterday, that’s something I almost never do. Don’t worry. If I was to become a junkie, I would have a long time ago.”

“Dean” Sam breathed. “If I’d ever want to kill another human being, it would be Dad. What he’s done to you, and I don’t even know half of it, and I… I hate him, Dean. Hate him.” 

“Don’t, Sammy. Don’t hate. That’s what kills you, every time. Eats you up.”

Sam took a deep breath. 

“For you, Dean, I’d do anything. I won’t hate Dad, if you don’t want me to. But if you want me to, I’ll kill him for you.” 

Dean put a hand on Sam’s thigh, squeezing it lightly. 

“Sammy, I don’t want you even thinking that. Don’t worry, I’ll still take care of you. Yesterday, I made sure we were safe in that house before I knocked myself out. I will always keep you safe. You are my responsibility, baby brother. Not the other way around. I’m meaner than my demons. They won’t get me, any more than the evil sons-of-bitches we hunt will.”


	7. Goddamn Right, You Should be Scared of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is back, and he's a coward, sending Gordon to do his dirty business. It might blow up in his face, though, because it's way too easy to underestimate a skinny seventeen-year-old with little to none experience in this world.
> 
> This is another dark one, but I'll let the boys have some fun soon, next chapter, promise.

John woke up, leaned over the bed and watched yesterday’s dinner hit the floor. Meeting his own eyes in the mirror, he loathed what he’d done to himself. He looked like shit with some shit to top that off. Since Dean left, he hadn’t had anyone to stop him. No one who gave him that look, who moved the whiskey bottle away, who reminded him he didn’t need those pills. He might never have taken care of Dean very well, but the other way around? Oh yes, he had relied on that boy a lot more than he’d admitted to himself. He hit the mirror, knuckles going to hell, and once again took the wrong road. He should’ve been filled with regret, with self-doubt, but instead he stared at his knuckles in anger. So Dean thought it was up to him how he wanted to live his life? He still was a snot-nosed kid. He didn’t have a say in this, never had and never would be allowed to, because he had no idea what he was dealing with. John did. And he would take back control. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Sam opened his eyes a few days later, Dean was just about to shake him awake. He was starting to get used to this routine already, and it kind of felt good. Like he was working for something, was on his way somewhere. Which he was. He just had to push himself to get there, not care about pain that wasn’t harmful to him. Now, he was stumbling at first, sore as hell after the last few days training sessions, but after he got through warm-up it felt a lot better. His body left the stiffness behind. Dean had told him that this would happen, but that he couldn’t let it fool him. He was still in danger of overtraining and injuries. Dean cared about that, unlike that shithead that had forced him to go boxing. And Dean also wanted to wait with anything else, hunting or other, much more enjoyable, activities until they both had processed the things they’d been through later. Processed and put it on lock-down. It was all cuddling and soft kisses right now, and Sam didn’t complain. Much. He loved those strong arms around him, the weight of Dean chasing the weight of the world away. 

This morning, Dean had gotten his carefree face back. He seemed like he never had knocked himself out to get rid of the world for just a little while, never had felt any pain in his entire life. It was comforting and scary at the same time. How much did Dean push down getting there? Meaner than his demons, he’d said. Not stronger. He wouldn’t win, he’d just keep them down, playing tricks on them. Still, Dean was the fiercest protector anyone ever could have. 

At breakfast, Dean got a phone call. He didn’t like it very much, but he wouldn’t tell Sammy what it was about. He just left the diner, and kept calling someone as they rolled out of town to go check Sam’s case out. 

“Okay, Sam, we need to meet someone. He’s not pleasant to be around but he says Tessa is gone, and he knows where she is. I’ve tried her cell since this morning, and she always answers. At least when I call. I don’t like it, but I’ll bring you. This cold son-of-a-bitch is bad news, Sammy. I need you to be ready. I got you something from the trunk.”

Dean handed him a gun. 

“Mine to keep?”

“Yeah, Sam. Didn’t plan to give you this just yet, but… I got a bad feeling about this, Sammy. Stay on your toes.”

Then Dean also handed him knives. Two of them, complete set to hide them on him.

“I don’t have time to teach you how to use those right now, Sammy, but the basics are quite easy. You have to use more force than you think. If you can get the eyes or the heart, fantastic, but aim for any part, Sammy. You don’t have the training to try anything else.”

Sam nodded. 

“I won’t let you down, Dean.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Sammy. I just wish I didn’t have to ask you to carry these.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

They met Gordon in an old, abandoned building, once an industry of some sort. He was giving Sam the creeps. Maybe this gut-thing ran in the family. He saw Dean go into full battle mode as they got closer, unconscious that he did but still. 

“Hey, Gordon. Let’s get to it. What do you know about Tessa?”

“I know I got her strung up in the back.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and his hands went for the gun. 

“Wouldn’t do that, Dean. I have sharpshooters on your baby bro. You pull the gun out, very slowly, and put it on the floor. Same goes for you, little Sammy. I’m sure your brother has given you one, too. Mm, and Dean, I want all the guns. And the knives.”

“It’s Sam.”

“What’s that?”

“It’ Sam. Not Sammy.”

“Oh, I like this one” Gordon laughed. “I’ll have me some fun with him.”

Dean did what was asked for him. Two guns, two knives, one brass knuckle, all on the floor. After a nod from him, Sam did the same with his gun. 

Gordon collected all the weapons. 

“What’s your game here, Gordon? You know other hunters won’t let you get away with this.”

Gordon laughed again. 

“Oh, John will fix that, don’t you worry. No one be the wiser. And he pays very well, your dad.” He got serious. “And he’s smart, too. Knew you would fall for that, not even check, the great Dean Winchester not taking the chance I might be telling the truth. No sharpshooters here, Dean-o. Just me and my friends, ready to make sure you learn your lesson well and good before old Johnny gets here.”

As Gordon was talking, Sam felt himself be dragged back, right before the hunter-gone-hitman revealed his bluff and Dean turned around to find Sam in the arms of two very large and very mean-looking men, knife to his throat. The look in Dean’s eyes was frightening, as he turned back to give it to Gordon, who just laughed. More of those gorillas were emerging from the shadows. 

“Now, Dean, I like a fair fight as much as anyone, but I like to have the odds on my side more. Either you let these nice men rip you apart, or Sammy dies, and then we do the same thing anyway. John doesn’t care which way it goes, but he wants you alive, so you’ll live. Your choice.”

Sam knew Dean would let them. He heard Dean’s voice in his head. Dean telling him to fight dirty if he could. Anything goes. And right now, Dean was trapped with three guys who smiled like they had gotten a present for their birthday. Baseball bats. Brass knuckles. Ready to kick the shit out of his brother, who wouldn’t defend himself on account of Sam. 

Sam let every muscle relax, would have fallen if the men hadn’t had him by the arms. They were laughing at him.

“Look, Gordon, this little Winchester is even weaker than John said! He fucking FAINTED!” They let him fall to the floor to point that out even clearer. 

Gordon had made some mistakes. The first one was not telling Sam to drop any knives. The second was underestimating him. He came to life down on the floor, and he’d seen Pet Sematary. Knife in hand, he used every ounce of strength he had, and he cut right through the Achilles tendon next to him as he cried out his brother’s name. 

Gordon third mistake was that he hadn’t patted Dean Winchester down. Dean still had this tiny little knife, and that knife was sticking out from the throat of the second man at Sammy’s side before Sam’s cry had ended. This move cost Dean. The guy closest to him had the time to hit Dean, hard, in the ribs. Problem was, Dean wasn’t responding to pain as the next guy would have.

Sam was stabbing the guy he’d cut down repeatedly in the throat, but then he watched something that would stay with him forever. Dean didn’t just win, he mauled those guys. Gordon might’ve taken away almost all his shiny toys, but one of the guys had a knife strapped to his leg. Within a minute, the men who had seemed so dangerous a second ago (but Gordon hadn’t really used any of the best, cheap as he was, trusting his plan would work) was choking on their own blood or trying to stop their insides from falling out. 

Sam was in a state of shock watching that. He sat there, and suddenly he was grabbed again, hauled up on his feet, had a gun against his head. When Dean, covered in blood splatter, was done and turned to Sam, Gordon was holding him as a shield.

“One step, Dean, and Sammy bites the dust. I’ll just get out of here, no harm, no foul, and I’ll drop him off the next town over.” 

Dean knew Gordon wouldn’t let Sammy live. Sammy would tell Dean which way they were going and that would cut deep into Gordon’s head start. He also knew he wouldn’t make a move as long as that gun was at Sammy’s head, and his stomach was in knots, because he knew Sammy was smart enough to get all this, too. And he knew what Sammy would try to do. What their best chance was. He calmed his hands, almost forgot what this felt like, true panic on the way. They had practiced this. It would work. It had to.

“Gordon, come on. I’ll let you walk, I’ll even pay you to tell John I accidentally died. Would give me an advantage, don’t you think?”

This was when Gordon made his final mistake. In his defense, he was filled with adrenaline, and it was very easy to underestimate Sam when you knew that he’d been stuck in group homes until very recently. Gordon laughed, a nervous laugh but still condescending. 

“You think I’m stupid?”

Gordon waved the gun around, not much, but enough. Sam had gotten the small opening Dean was hoping would help him. He ducked under Gordon’s arm and grabbed it, pointed the gun up as it went off. Held it that way long enough for Dean to close the distance and get the gun out of Gordon’s hand. Sam got out of Dean’s way, let that feral animal that had more or less slaughtered the guys around him loose at Gordon. Gordon was at the ground, bloody nose, Dean’s hand choking him.

“Yes, I do. Don’t you, Sammy?”

Sam’s legs were jelly. His hands shook incontrollable. But he still looked Gordon right in the eye, leaning over. 

“Yes. Very stupid.”

“What do you think we should do with this guy?”

“I’m not really good at that stuff, you know, rookie and all. You know best, big brother.” 

Gordon wet himself. He didn’t know what Dean was capable of, really, because that was the stuff of stories, but he saw in those fierce, green eyes, that it was a lot more than he wanted to know. And the way this had gone down, he was ready to believe any story right now.

Dean looked at Sam and smiled. It was the smile of a predator. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

When John got the videocall from Gordon, he watched the phone for a few seconds before he picked up. After all, he was a little bit reluctant to see his eldest in the condition he would be in. He inhaled some whiskey and pushed the button. What met his eyes was making him drop the glass. 

“Hey there, Dad” Dean said, blood all over his face. “Not who you expected? Got a present for you.” Dean let the camera sweep over the carnage, the dead bodies. Got the camera back on himself and gave John the wolf grin while he moved. 

“Dean, listen to me” John tried. 

The camera met Sam’s eyes. 

“Hiya, John. I told you last call was the last you’d ever hear from me. Changed my mind. Or, you changed my mind.”

Sam, all grown up, blood in his face, on his hands, all over him. The camera zoomed in, let John see those hazel eyes he had forgotten for so many years. The ones that had met his with such love, the ones he was scared would one day turn black. Sam smiled too, but not as feral. Cold. In all his shock, his shaking hands, Sam was cold like John’s eldest had never, ever been. Maybe he’d raised the wrong son. Maybe Sam had been the better choice. Keep your enemies close and all that. Now he would have two of those in the wind, one who _he_ knew very well what he was capable of. 

Sam turned to Gordon, all tied up and crying. Then, without hesitation, he shot Gordon in the head. 

“That’s the easy way, Dad. Not what you’ll get if you try this shit again” Dean said with a growl as he stepped into the camera view, put his hand on Sammy’s right cheek lovingly and kissed his left, getting blood all over his lips. “Let’s hope for your sake this **is** the last you hear from us. I see you thinking it, and yeah, you are goddamn right. You should be scared of me. You know what I can do. You taught me.” 

The call ended. 

John stared at the broken glass. Grabbed the bottle. It didn’t matter that the glass was broken. He wouldn’t need it tonight, anyway.


	8. Family Don't End With Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers visit Jody Mills to get some well-needed rest (and also, other nice things).

“You okay back there, Tessa?” Dean asked, worried. Gordon, thankfully, hadn’t lied about Tessa being in the old building where the trap had been set up. They found her easily after he told them where, before they called John.

“I will be, Dean. Gordon Walker will not be the end of me. I’m glad you guys were the end of him, even if I’d have loved to show him myself just how much I appreciate being kidnapped.”

“Good. So, where do we drop you?”

“You mind driving me to Jody’s?”

Dean smiled.

“That’d be great, sweetheart. Been meaning to introduce Sam to her, anyway.” 

Sam gave his brother an irritated look. He didn’t like it when Dean did that. Called Tessa, who was kind of (okay she was) cute, sweetheart. Called waitresses “darling”. Girls selling them pie or gasoline or whatever, they shouldn’t be “honey”. Guys who did the same really, really shouldn’t. Pet names should be for one person only, and that was Sam. But he couldn’t seem to make his brother stop that, because Dean loved it when Sam got jealous. Also, some pet names he kept for Sammy. Sweetness, babe, those were just for him. 

Now, they were going to visit someone from Dean’s childhood, someone he wanted Sam to meet. Sure, that was fine, but what was this Jody-person going to think if Dean called him sweetness instead of Tessa sweetheart? Not like their relationship was very conventional. Sam was nervous, and Dean could feel it. Put his hand on Sam’s thigh just like he always did when they were driving. 

“You will love Jody, sweetness. She’s an amazing person.”

Dean sure wasn’t afraid showing affection in front of Tessa, and she knew they were brothers. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

They stopped at a farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. There were fences all around it, cameras. Whoever lived here did not like unwanted company. Dean smiled as a woman ran out of the house. He swept her of her feet, twirled her around, kissed her on the cheeks. Sam would have been jealous, but he felt warmth instead. Dean had told him enough in the car to know better, to love this Jody before he even met her, for what she had done for Dean. 

“Without her, Sammy, I don’t know what I would’ve become. I was texting her in secret for years, babe. She’s my family more than Dad ever was. Family has your back; don’t you forget that. Family don’t end with blood. Jody, she’s our family, Sammy.” 

Sam stepped forward as Jody was hugging Tessa, kissing her on both cheeks. He was suddenly shy. Sam had absolutely no idea how to greet new people he might like and might care what they thought about him, but Jody had no problem with that. She just hugged him as well, a good, hard hug.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Sam. Dean has told me so much about you.”

Jody was easy to be around, made the slightly unwelcoming house (“Safety first,” Jody had told him when she saw him eyeing all the alarms and stuff, “I have a lot of people to protect here.”) like a home for all of them.

“Bit crowded at the moment, folks, lots of new arrivals. I got you upstairs, Tessa, and I got you boys in the cellar. Sorry about that. Only have the one bed, too, but it’s the big one you always liked, Dean. You boys either sleep there or fight for the bed and get one of the sleeping bags for the floor. Dean knows where they are.”

“We’re fine with one bed, Jody. We have years of cuddling to make up for” Dean said, big smile. 

“Fine,” Jody said, “you can put your stuff down there then. Because you ARE staying, aren’t you?” 

“If you’ll have us, Jodes. Could really use a few lazy days” his big brother answered. 

“Ha! Lazy, you can forget, Dean Winchester. I’ve got a list of things for you to do to earn your keep. But not tonight. Tonight, we fatten this kid up, because he’s a bit skinny, isn’t he?” she said, winking at Sam. “And my god, Dean, why haven’t you gotten him to a hairdresser? That amazing hair, it shouldn’t be treated like that. I’ll fix it up after dinner. Alex and Claire will join us, but I think the newest ones want stay in their rooms tonight.” 

Jody talking that much could have been annoying, or make her seem nervous, but it didn’t. It was her way to make Sam feel at home, like one of them, and she did a god job on that. Then, she let the boys go down to the cellar, that turned out to be quite homey. At least the room that Jody had fixed up to be an extra bedroom. While Sam and Dean went down to the cellar, Jody got Tessa up to her room to give her what she needed, a comforting talk Jody-style. 

Dean threw the duffel in the corner, stretched and fell back on the bed. Sam was walking around the room. 

“This some kind of group home?” he asked.

“Some kind, yeah. Not like the ones you’ve been to, babe. Jody takes in kids that needs a home, kids that have been through stuff. Hunter stuff. We find a kid like that, when we can’t save the parents, we leave them here.” 

Sam turned around.

“That is amazing.”

“Yeah, Jody is awesome. Now, baby, close the door, and get over here.”

Sam felt something build up inside him, and closed the door very quickly, locked it, jumped into bed. Dean got him on his back, positioned himself on top, on his elbows, not to push all the air out of Sam. Dean’s body against his own, it felt so good, so perfect, not being able to move because Dean was all over him. Dean kissed him, just kissed him, slowly. This wasn’t the kind of kiss he had gotten over the last few days though, not the reassuring, loving one. This was one that made him hungry for more, so much more. He was getting hard, and he could feel Dean was, too. Finally. But here? In this bed, in this house? 

“Don’t worry, babe, they knock around here. And Jody will be with Tessa for at least two hours, until they have to cook dinner. We’re all on our own here.”

Sam made little sounds, his body trying to move, so needy already. Dean smiled. “You’ll get what you want, sweetness. Just be good for me.” 

“I will, Sir. Tell me what to do.” 

“That an order, babe?”

“No, Sir. Tell me what to do, **please**. I want that so bad, Sir.”

“That’s my good baby” Dean purred, grinding down on Sam, making them both moan even though they were still fully clothed. 

“We have to be quiet, though, this is not our home. A well-behaved guest doesn’t make his host listen to the sounds I can make you do, sweetness. Can you be quiet for me?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good, baby. Now let’s hope I can” Dean murmured to himself. Sam let that slip in character pass. He just loved the fact that Dean wanted this just as bad as him. 

Dean kept kissing Sam, then biting his neck, keeping him pinned down, listening to Sam trying to not make a sound as the sweet pain flowed through his body. Then Dean got off him. 

“Babe, get undressed and stay on your back. Hands above your head.”

Dean got off the bed, got the lube out of the duffle bag.

“Lucky I happened to have this in my bag, sweetness. Didn’t plan ahead, but your little cute ass is kind of hard to resist.” 

Sam gasped at the thought of Dean watching his ass like that. He was rock hard, naked, hands over his head. 

“You are so gorgeous like that, Sammy. I love watching you just like that.” 

Dean undressed, got on the bed next to Sam, on his side. Sam could feel Dean’s cock pressing against his hip, and Dean adjusted, lifted Sam’s leg over himself, prodded the other leg to spread too. Sam’s chest was heaving, his eyes were closed. Dean was leaning on his elbow, getting a really good view of his brother’s body, one Sam had to will to be (reasonably) still. The cock against that (a little bit too) flat stomach was, indeed, gorgeous. Dean let his hand circle Sam’s nipples, pinching them lightly. Then he let it wander down, down, massaging Sam’s inner thigh, and then Sam heard how Dean opened the lube, felt how his brother’s thumb was gently rubbing the entrance of his hole, something Sam had never been that comfortable with before, however good it felt. Now, he wasn’t afraid of letting Dean go there, didn’t feel shame in any way. It just felt so goddamn good.

“Color, sweetness?”

“You need to ask?”

The thumb was gone.

“I really do, Sammy.”

“Please, please, continue. Green. Green. Ever-fucking-green.”

Dean leaned down and kissed that pretty mouth, just for once letting it getting away with that not entirely polite answer, let his thumb slip in, carefully, just a tiny little bit. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth, tried to push himself on the thumb, which made it hard for Dean to keep himself in control. 

“Shhh, babe, I told you to be quiet, remember?” 

“Yes, Sir, it’s just it feels so good, Sir, it’s…”

“Too much? You can’t keep quiet?”

“I will, Sir, just don’t stop, please, don’t stop” Sam said in short, breathy little moans. 

Dean went slow, so slow, but when his first finger thrust inside Sammy, pressed against the prostate, the choked sound Sammy made, it was driving himself nuts. Sammy’s ass was made for him, no question. 

“Sam, sweetness, I want you to show me what you’ve learned. See if you can do this good for me, even if I keep fingerfucking you.” 

Dean adjusted again, found a position where he could fuck Sam’s hand and keep thrusting his finger into his little brother. Wasn’t perfect for Sammy to show the tricks he’d been taught, but it didn’t need to be. Sammy’s hand on his dick, his finger inside Sammy, it would do and then some. 

“Dean, please, please, won’t you fuck me instead, please? Want it, big brother, please, Sir” Sammy begged.

Dean thought he might come right then and there at the sound of that. 

“No, babe, not today. When I do, I want you to be able to scream at the top of your lungs, because that is what I’ll make you do, sweetness. Now, tell me, you want another finger?”

Sam did. He really, really did. They moved together, bit down on the sounds that wanted to break out, Sam begging Dean please, please, not to stop. Dean didn’t. Today, he did not have the self-control to stop, and Sam was so sensitive, he came untouched, just by his brother’s fingers in his ass, gifted fingers, but nonetheless. At the sight of Sam coming, Dean exploded himself, fireworks in the sky, blinding him, making both of them need ten minutes just to come down. 

“Sammy, baby, you be good like that and oh I’ll make you scream so loud, you’ll lose your voice, sweetness” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear as he was holding his brother tight, skin against skin. “We’ll lay here just for ten more minutes, because I need to hold you, babe, but then we better clean up and get up there. Didn’t mean for us to be down here so long. Damn that cute ass of yours.”

“If my ass can make you fuck me next time, I will love it for eternity” Sam whispered back, which almost made Dean start all over again.

“Babe, none of that, or we won’t leave this bed in another hour. Now, relax.” 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

At first, Sam couldn’t help but think about how many of them wondered about his rosy cheeks and Dean’s very sexy afterglow, but he soon forgot because they were having a freaking **family dinner**. He didn’t know these people, and still, he felt at home, warm and safe. Especially with Dean’s hand on his thigh under the table. 

When he and Dean got the dishes out to the kitchen, Dean whispered in his ear “Those people, they don’t care what makes a hunter happy, because so few things do. As long as they see everything’s fine, you being a little young and all, they won’t ask. And they won’t tell.” 

Sam smiled until he thought he couldn’t smile more, and Dean gave him a quick pat on his apparently so irresistible ass. 

“Now Sammy, let’s get this done, or Jody will tell us to hurry up.” 

After dinner, the girls went back to their rooms, and Tessa excused herself, said she needed to sleep. She probably did. She also felt that Dean wanted to tell Jody about what happened, from his point of view, and that it would be easier without her there. Most hunters had that kind of intuition, needed to have it for their work.

Jody heard half of it, then she got up and got the whiskey out. She poured three glasses, and when she’d put Sam’s in front of him, she looked at Dean.

“So very not his father, Jodes. Let him drink if he wants to.” 

Jody smiled at them.

“Yeah, but you seem to make little brother happy, just like his father should have done, or well… not the same way, if you catch my drift. But either way, good job, honey. You have a warm heart, Dean Winchester. I always saw that. I think this little one will bring it out more often” she said and patted Sam’s shoulder. 

When the story ended, Dean and Jody was on their third whiskey, and Sam was still on the one. 

“Dean, that’s horrible. I regret bringing your dad up before, because this… it’s… there’s no words for it.”

“I know, Jody. There isn’t. And no worries about that, loved what you said” Dean said, winked at her. “You letting us stay here for a few days, that’s what we need right now. A safe place. I’m very grateful.”

“And tomorrow I will make good on that promise to fix up little one’s hair. I think that story did us in for the night.”

“Hey, tallest one here” Sam snickered. The whiskey had made him warm, but more than that, he was high on the whole situation. Who would have thought Sam Winchester could ever get something like this? This was the perfect night, the best night he ever had, story about their dad trying to make their life a painful misery or not.


	9. Now He's Your Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness never lasts long for the Winchesters, does it... John is back, and this time, with truth, not deceit, as his weapon. 
> 
> Enter Charlie Bradbury, a girl so fragile and so strong. Maybe she's the solution.

Sam and Dean had been at Jody’s place for four days when Sam started to see signs of discomfort in his brother. He didn’t understand it. On the fifth day, Dean seemed to be annoyed with him, trying not to, but still, annoyed. 

“Dean, what did I do?” 

“What, Sam?” 

No pet names right now, no smiling, no teasing. No wanting anything from Sammy like what he got the first two nights.

“I must have done something.”

Sam was scared now, really scared. Had it all been an illusion? Maybe Dean didn’t want him, had he already grown tired of a little brother who knew nothing, was weak and too much of a liability?

“Oh, no, sweetness. I’m so sorry. It’s just, I’m starting to itch for a hunt. It’s been too long. I can’t take this much joy and happiness in one go, Sammy, just wasn’t built for it.”

“John did that.”

“Maybe. Or it’s just me. Doesn’t really matter. I know Jody would love for us to stay a few more days, because once I finish one list, a new one appears… but I found a case this morning and I was thinking we might head out tomorrow first thing.” 

_We._ That little word. It was all Sam needed to hear. He was all smiles again, so cute Dean could eat him up. Or, maybe, eat him out. 

“I’m ready to go, Dean. You wanna tell me about this case so I can do some research?”

Dean picked up his phone to send the details to Sam, but he froze half-way. 

“What is it, Dean?”

“I got an e-mail from John, Sammy.” 

Sam got in under Dean’s arm, making his brother hold him and the phone at the same time.

“Let’s see it.” 

Dean opened it up, and the attached video played. John had recorded himself. He looked old, broken. _Serves him right to look like shit, he shouldn’t be alive after what he’s done_ , Sam thought. 

“Dean. I overestimated you. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have believed you’d keep Sammy out of this life, out of the violence you and I live in.”

Sam pressed himself against Dean, tried to stop the pain from enter Dean, but he felt that wasn’t needed. Dean was angry, not feeling guilty.

“Now, he’s your responsibility, and there is something you should know, Dean. Something about Sammy. Yellow-eyes wasn’t there that night to kill Mary. She was collateral damage. He was there for Sam, Dean. He was there to bleed in my little baby’s mouth, to make him part demon. That’s what you have by your side now. Noticed that Sam has no problem killing people? Just the beginning, son. He probably already has some other things, like abilities other people don’t have, probably hasn’t told you about it.” John sighed. “You have a month, Dean. One month to put this right, and then I start telling people Sam’s part demon. They will hunt him down, Dean, and not even you can stop them all. Better you just do it for them. I saw him, Dean. Saw him on that tape. It’s too late for him now.”

The video ended abruptly. Sam was so pale he might faint for real, this time. He was making a move to run, but no, Dean held him and wouldn’t let go. And Dean did have a lot more muscle than his little brother, so Sam couldn’t run and hide. 

“Dean, that’s why I have the dreams. There’s demon blood in me, Dean. It was me all along. It was me that got Mom killed. Me that made John turn into… that. Stole your childhood. It was all me.”

Sam was panicking, hyperventilating. 

“Sammy! Sam! Baby, even if it’s true about Yellow-eyes, which we don’t know, I do NOT put John Winchester above trying to mindfuck us, even if it IS, you were a baby for real then, not just my baby. You are innocent. The one who made all that happen, it’s the demon, Sam. Not you. Not me. Not even John.” 

Sam heard the words, but he couldn’t believe them. He had a full-blown anxiety attack, and would probably have harmed himself badly if he had the opportunity. He didn’t. Dean wouldn’t let him go. 

Jody came running, worry pouring out of her. Dean gestured for her to take the cell phone, and she watched it. Her mouth dropped. Her knees turned into jelly, something that had never happened before to Jody Mills, seasoned ex-sheriff and warm-hearted cynic. She was on the ground before she knew what happened. Jody had been through too much in her life to stay there, though. She got up and asked Dean what she could do. 

“Keep the others away, Jody. I just need some time.” 

“You got it, Dean.”

“And, Jody?”

“Yeah?”

“If you tell anyone anything, anything at all…”

That fierce, green fire. Jody had never seen it like this, and she, never scared of anything, took a step backwards. This was not the warm-hearted boy she had gotten to now so well. This was what John Winchester had tried to carve out of human flesh. But he was still there, her Dean, would come back. 

“You know I won’t, kid.”

Finally, when the world had been lost to him in a dark, little room without air for longer than he thought he could survive, Sam calmed down. He hadn’t choked. He hadn’t died. But maybe he should have. Maybe that would be best for everyone. He knew, when the doubt wasn’t trying to pull tricks on him, Dean wouldn’t let anyone kill him. Not until Dean was dead, himself. And how many would come? For how long could Dean keep them hidden? And maybe… that wasn’t the biggest threat to Dean.

Dean whispered to him, warm fingers in Sam’s hair, on his back, the smell of old leather and Dean all around him.

“We’ll fix this, Sammy. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“Maybe, I will happen to you, Dean. You heard John.”

“John is a fucking sociopath, Sammy. He might have been our Dad once, a long time ago. Someone who puts out hits on his children, they’re not the kind of people you let tell you what’s what.”

\--- --- --- --- --- 

That night, when Dean had finally gotten Sam to sleep, exhausted from what he’d been through, repeatedly panicking, Jody waved for Dean to come out of their room. Dean had left the door open just a tiny little bit, because he didn’t want anybody to have to open it if they came down to the cellar. The girls had stayed away from them, but at one point, when Sam was calm, Claire had come to him with a beer. The look in her eyes told Dean everything he needed to know. Claire didn’t know what had happened, but she knew all about that kind of anxiety, and she was on their side.

He didn’t want to leave Sam, but since he and Jody had gotten him to take something to sleep on, the possibility of him waking up was very limited. Still, he didn’t want to leave. Jody had anticipated this. She sat down on the floor outside, patted the floor next to her. 

“We’ll sit here, Dean.”

“Thanks, Jody. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dean. Won’t stop me from kicking your ass six ways from Sunday if you help yourself to that little stash of yours.”

“What? No, I just keep them for emergencies. Like when my brother has very understandable panic attacks because the man formerly known as our dad tells him he’s part demon.”

“Mm-hm. Let’s keep it that way. If you feel that pretty head of yours spinning, you come to me, you hear me? No pills, Dean. Not until this is over. Or, if I have a say in it, ever again.”

Dean sighed with a pained expression.

“I don’t know what to DO, Jodes. One month from now, John Winchester draws a target on my brother’s back. I just don’t know what to do.”

“I might, kid. I have a wild idea.”

“What? What could you do about this?”

“What we need, kiddo, is to know more about this. How we get the demon blood out, if it’s there. How to prove your ex-father wrong. Because it’s not too late, Sammy is a good, loving kid, Dean. Just like you.”

Dean squeezed her hand, eternally grateful for her support, shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“Jody, my father has spent seventeen years on this fucking demon. And he’s John fucking Winchester. We have a month. If John didn’t lie and has the hit out already. What could we do?”

“Oh, us, maybe not much. But I have a lead on someone who might.”

“Okay, Jodes. You tell me what kind of genius out there, that I’ve never heard of, knows that much about this shit, because I sure would like to meet them. Must be one helluva hunter.”

“She’s not a hunter, Dean, and she’s not out there. She’s seventeen years old, same as Sam, and currently held at a mental hospital six hours or so from here.”

Dean turned to look at Jody. 

“…WHAT?”

“I was going to try and get her out the legal way, but we’ll have to bust her out because this might be our one shot. Word is, she can hear demons talk.”

Dean rolled his and tried to keep his voice calm.

“A teenager in the nuthouse that talks to demons? Really, Jody?”

“She doesn’t talk to them, Dean. Now you hear me out” she answered with That Voice. “This girl was a child genius. She finished high school when she was eleven, and she started programming long before that. Then, her father was possessed when she was thirteen. He killed her mom, and almost her, too. This was all legit, Dean, I know the hunter who exorcised her father. After that, she disappeared in the system, lived on the street for a while, but she never gave up on finding a way to get to the thing that killed her parents. And she found some way to pick up demon talk mid-air, to collect information never known to man before. But then she made a mistake. She tried to tell people about it.”

“And they thought she was mental. Which we don’t know that she’s not.” 

“Yeah. Young girl, genius, family gets killed. Easy solution, she snapped.” 

“But you think she can actually do it?”

“I don’t know, Dean. But we should find out.”

“Okay, Jody. Okay. This doesn’t really make sense to me, but at least it’s something I can DO. We’ll bust her out. Which hospital and what’s her name?”

“Willowgate. And her real name was Celeste, but because of what happened to her family, they let her change it. She’s called Charlie Bradbury now.”

\--- --- --- --- --- 

Two days later, days when Dean had done research dressed in Sam (because his little brother needed to be close constantly, and Dean was afraid what Sammy might do if he was left alone), they were on their way out the door. It should be a milk run. Not many people try and kidnap crazy people, so the hospital didn’t have much in the way of security. 

Sam had, reluctantly, agreed to stay behind. He was in no shape to try this kind of thing out for the first time. Promised Dean, with those hazel eyes all filled up on truth, that he wouldn’t do anything stupid while Dean was away. Dean who kissed him back to life, cuddled him into some state where he started to believe they might fix this, somehow. Claire had walked up to them. 

“Sam. I know you don’t know me, but I know a thing or two about anxiety attacks. If you let me, and please let me, I’ll help you through them. I need to give something back for what Jody did for me.”

Dean was quiet at first, driving while it got dark, and Jody didn’t try and make him talk. She waited him out, felt he had something to say, this young man who should’ve been asking her advice about college-boys. Not exactly what he had to say, which was exactly what she had feared. 

“Jody, one problem is John. The other one is he’s probably not lying about Sam. Us getting Charlie, that’s working on problem two. You know the logical solution to problem one.”

“Dean, you’re talking about killing your own father.”

“No, Jodes, I’m talking about taking out the guy who’s gonna send murderers after my little brother. And you know damn well we can’t send out the word Sammy is all fine now and make them all stop.”

Dean took a deep breath, steeled himself for the job he hadn’t really admitted was the logical thing to do until he said it out loud. 

“I think he’ll give me a week or two at least to cave. He still wants his killing machine, and I know him. He won’t give up, and now, he knows I will protect Sammy with my life. He’s gonna think I’ll try and trick him, pretend Sammy is dead, let him come close. And then he’ll grab me, finish what Gordon was supposed to start.”

Jody stared at the twenty-one-year old, that had just stated all matter of fact that his Dad wanted his little brother dead and himself broken down enough to start following orders again. She swore on her dead mother’s grave she would get him back from the edge once more, like she had when he was a kid, whether he really understood how close he’d been or not. Or if he did, now. And those pills? That was over as of now.

\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Dean woke Charlie up, a hand over her mouth, she was terrified. Luckily for Dean, she was more terrified about having to stay in the hospital, so she was easy to transport. Dean scoffed when she insisted on bringing this big teddy bear, but maybe, when your family is killed and you’re coming in from the streets straight to a straight-jacket (not that she had been wearing one, it just sounded funny in Dean’s head and he could never stop that humor from breaking through however bad things were), you get to have a teddy bear at age seventeen. The laptop, he could understand. That was good. If there was any truth at all to the story, and he was willing to take a shot at that, he would have grabbed it himself, just surprised she was allowed to have it.

The cute redhead, skinnier than Sammy and with an air of helplessness, like a kitten, was trembling, but once she’d decided she was game she proved she did have a spine of titanium. 

“Lennie always sleeps through the night, Dean, and his alarm won’t go off for another fifteen minutes. Best way out is through the warden’s changing room. They have their own back door.”

Dean nodded. 

“And the nurses, honey?”

“Not your honey, Dean. But they are at the nurse’s station, reading Tarot. It’s Sally and Samantha tonight, they always do that.”

Dean cocked his eyebrow.

“How come you’re still here, Charlie?”

“There’s the lock on the warden’s changing room, and the very tall wall surrounding us. And I’d have to walk for miles before I got to the main road. I bet you’ve thought of that.”

“You’re right about that” Dean said. “We’ll make that warden sleep a little longer, Charlie. Then, I’ll get you out.”

Charlie nodded and followed him, quiet as a cat (or maybe a kitten) as he filled Lennie up with some sleeping juice and picked the lock on the door in about two seconds. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

Jody squeezed Charlie’s hand when they got to the Impala, made her feel just a tiny bit safer. 

“She did good, Jodes. A lot better than expected. We have a head start” Dean said. 

Dean pulled off the hood he’d been wearing, except for when he woke Charlie up. These kinds of places might have the worst security possible (Charlie was not deemed to be dangerous in any way) but they did have cameras. 

Charlie turned to him. 

“Dean, there’s a woman in there, Pamela. She’s been there for twenty years now. You get her out, or I won’t do whatever it’s you want me to do.”

“What makes you think I want you to do something?”

“Because I’m not stupid, Dean. Child genius and all.” 

“We’ll see, Charlie.”

“No, we’re not. You promise me here and now or I go back.”

Dean sighed. 

“I’ll stop you.”

“That, you can do. Make me do whatever it is for you, you can’t. Or maybe, you can, maybe you’ll hurt me until I do, which is very scary, but Pamela is not crazy Dean, and you seem to be very good at this thing, and I don’t think you like hurting people because you were very nice to me, and God do I babble when I’m nervous.”

Dean smiled. 

“Okay, kiddo. I’ll get your Pamela. But not tonight. Tonight, we need to go.”

Charlie didn’t say anything, she just got in the Impala.

\--- --- --- --- --- 

“Did you guys even HEAR the 911? This guy is seriously nuts. Like, Charles Manson-crazy. Una-bomber-crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“I heard it. He thinks his son is the Anti-Christ and that poor geo-casher, who luckily could call without him knowing about it, was his other son. Only that one died when he was seven. And the things we found in that cellar… that guy won’t get his call anytime soon. Straight-jacket is what he’ll get. Violent fucker, too. Had to sedate him even though he was filled up on god knows what.”

“The geo-casher ready to be a witness?”

“Don’t think he’ll need to, really. But he left us a number and an address. Isn’t Ted Nugent someone famous, by the way?”


	10. Demon Chatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie to the rescue, and Dean invents a new method to help Sam with the appetite.

“Morning, bitches!” Charlie said as she descended the stairs. That geeky smile got Dean every time. From the moment she pulled the little chip out of the teddy bears enormous eye, because “you didn’t think I wouldn’t back up, did you” he loved her, like the little sister he never had. 

“Hey, Charlie” Sam said, drinking his coffee. Claire would probably be there soon, because she liked to talk to Sam over breakfast coffee, but so far, Jody’s little pack of strays were all sleeping in like teenagers tend to do. 

“Sammy, if you don’t eat something with that, I’ll kick your ass” Dean said.

“Dean, get off my back, because parenting me is not good for your mental health, just ask John” Sam said, back to being defensive as fuck. 

Dean sighed. 

“Sammy, please. You want to be a hunter, you need to eat.”

“I’ll just make sure I’m not a demon first, thank you very much.” 

“Would you STOP that, Sammy” Dean answered, about to lose his temper. Mornings were not his favorite time of day and he was getting tired of this, of Sammy having to be forced to being spooned, which happened to be the only thing that would let his little brother sleep and of Sammy acting out like a kid (which he kind of was, still, not done growing up yet). 

Last hunt, Dean had tried to get done himself. Sam’s state of mind wasn’t just incredibly annoying, it was also deadly in the field. It ended up with Sam doing what he’d been doing so far, watching. And he kept it together the whole time, until they were going home. 

“Would you two stop bickering like an old married couple and listen? Last night, I got something off the demonetz to confirm this theory I’ve been working on.”

Every eye in the room turned to the tiny girl with the love of all things nerd, the girl who could also turn out to be more dangerous to demons than all three Winchesters combined. 

“That Azazel guy…” 

“Who’s Azazel?” Dean interrupted.

“You know him as Yellow-eyes, but he DOES have a name. Anyway, Azazel, he’s done this to kids all over the country, trying to make some kind of human container. Not a demon out there who knows exactly why, it seems, but now, I know how he does it and I think we can reverse it.” 

Dean got up from the table and hugged Charlie so hard, she thought her ribs might break. 

“Air really becoming an issue here, Dean!”

“You know what, kiddo, I don’t think I ever liked someone as much as I do you right now. You. Are. Awesome.”

“Not really a kid, Dean. Not unless you think Sam is.” 

Dean might be all smiles, but Sam was more cautious. Could it be true?

“How would you get it out of me, Charlie?”

“Well, the demons have this story they tell their little demon spawns to keep them in line, about some people called The Men of Letters. Totally sexist organization, but apparently, they’re legit, and they have the good stuff on demons. Or, had. They are low-tech, I mean like books, because they were active a zillion years ago. They’re not around anymore. And they loved secrets, I mean loved them, so those books are stashed away in some kind of vaults, almost impossible to find and totally impossible to get into.”

“So, we need a book that an organization, not around anymore, have hidden in a place we can’t get in” Dean said. “Not liking you as much right now, kid.” 

Charlie made a face at Dean for not letting the kid thing go, but she kept going.

“No, we don’t, because I’m awesome. And demons are stupid. They don’t all like old Yellow-ass, you know. Some of them have doubts they’ll like what these kids will do, and they’ve done some digging on their own, found this ritual. You can cure someone from being a demon by injecting them with human blood, do some chanting, repeat and rinse until all human again. They’re planning on cleansing those kids, make Ass-azel really lose it when he realizes all his precious kids are over being demon spawns. Killing them would get his attention, but this, they will try as soon as they decide which is the best way to make all those kids forget being tied to a bed and force-fed blood.” 

“Charlie, I love the use of the word “ass” right now. Only one thing. If YOU can get this from the, ehrm, demonetz, can’t Azazel do the same?”

“No, Dean, he can’t, because he’s not awesome. Demon radio not really known to demons, funny enough. They think they’re doing it on an isolated channel.” 

“And you know this ritual well enough to perform it?” Jody asked.

“Oh yeah. I got it. I just wished I’d found out about this before my Dad…” Charlie’s voice died out. Dean still next to her, held her like he usually did with Sammy. 

“So sorry, kiddo.” 

This time, Charlie didn’t protest or make a face. She just let herself be held, let Dean blow some warm air in her hair, reminding Dean of Sammy as a kid. Before he was anything else to Dean. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

“This is probably going to be painful, Sammy. I’ll be here the whole time” Dean said. 

“I don’t care how much it hurts, Dean. I just want it out.” 

It hurt. A lot. But it worked. They thought. It would be very hard to know for sure, because Sam didn’t react to the tests they knew to begin with. He wasn’t possessed, he was something else. 

Jody thought that it might be more painful for Dean to have to watch his brother suffer, squirm, scream than it was for Sam to get through the pain. When Sam was sleeping, knocked-out, between two of the purified-blood injections, she found Dean with the whiskey bottle. 

“Fine, whiskey is a hunter go-to, Dean, and I know you’ll be there for Sammy, whiskey or not. But, kid, I want your stash.”

“Jody, I’m not gonna go there. I told you, emergencies only.”

“Then you won’t mind handing it over.” 

Green fire. Burning hot. 

“You don’t trust me, Jody?”

“Oh, I trust you with _my_ life. I just don’t trust you with _yours_. Sam might not know the difference, out of it as he is, because you won’t knock yourself out this time, will you, hon? And yeah, Sam told me about that. But you will feed that habit of yours to run away, and that will get you in the end.” 

“Fine, Jody” Dean grunted. “If it gets you off my back. I don’t have time for this right now. And I don’t run away.”

He got out the plastic bag, assortment of pills, and tossed it to her. The one he had absolutely not thought about, no, of course not. He didn’t need that, wasn’t about to end up like John, no. It was just… good to know it was there. Just in case. Just like the whiskey. 

Then they had to get back to Sam, give him next injection. They had hours to go yet. Hours when the seventeen-year-old would prove to be just as able as his brother to withstand pain. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

Next morning, Sam was back to the living, pale and tired but alive and cleansed, although, he was scared, maybe not entirely. Nobody could prove it one way or another. 

Sam still had no appetite. 

“Sam, let’s get you in a shower and to bed again. You need to rest” Dean said, not bothering to try and make Sam eat. Maybe there was another way to do that. 

“Sure” Sam said. Today, he felt okay – physically – but he was lost, somehow. He’d been on the road to become a hunter, but could he really if he couldn’t get proof that he was a hundred percent demon-free?

Dean was planning to jerk him out of that state of mind. He would not allow this listlessness to turn into a full-blown depression. First step, get Sam down to the basement and into that old shower, not luxurious in any way, but still better than what the brothers were used to from motels and group homes. He undressed Sam casually, like it was nothing, and shooed him into the shower. Then, he undressed himself and got in the shower, too. Sam didn’t stop him, and he didn’t protest being lathered up either. If anything, he breathed a bit easier, letting go of the trying to get in control. He didn’t have to, not right now. He could focus on this moment, this shower, on Dean taking care of him. 

“Good baby, let go, relax, I got you” Dean whispered in his ear. Sam leaned into his big brother, skin against skin, hands massaging his body, Dean gently kissing his neck, biting him lightly, just letting him know Dean could hurt him just the right way if he wanted too. 

They took a long shower, and by the end, Sam had forgot about the demon blood. He had forgotten about the not being good enough. He had forgotten everything except for Dean. His big brother got him in bed, under the covers, just holding him, a thumb rubbing his belly, stealing all of Sam’s concentration. When Dean’s fingers made little circles, close to Sam’s cock, slowly getting hard, Sam was definitely not thinking about anything except what Dean was doing.

“Babe? Anything you want from me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, Sir, now, Sammy? Suddenly so polite, after all this defensive shit?” 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, but you know you won’t get away that easily, sweetness. This time, you won’t get away with anything I don’t like.”

Sam shuddered. Now, he was hard as fuck. That gritty voice, it drove him crazy. 

“So, Sammy, about your eating habits. I want them to get better, because no energy means you don’t have the energy for _this_ , Dean murmurs in Sam’s ear, finding Sam’s hard cock as he says “this”.”

“I have the energy, Sir” Sam moaned.

Dean’s hand was gone, found his ribs instead, that perfect pressure, making Sam whine.

“Did I ask you something, sweetness?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then, be quiet. Color, babe?”

“Green.”

“Good, because I’m in the mood for making you really wish you could scream, sweetness.” 

That statement made Sam’s hips move, made Sam press himself right against Dean’s marvelous erection. His brother was in possession of a perfect dick, one Sam wished was in him. But Dean has told him not in this house. 

“You stay still, sweetness. No fun for you unless you’re good for me.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Dean dangled something in front of him. Nipple clamps. Sam lost his breath. 

“Want to try these out, babe?”

“Yes, Sir, yes please.”

Dean snickered, bit Sam’s ear just enough for him to let out a little moan. 

“Now, Sammy, you don’t get those today. Not before you show me you can eat.” 

Sam whimpered, wanted to beg but knew he wasn’t allowed. 

“Finally learning to control that pretty mouth of yours, are you, sweetness?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good. Then why don’t you put it to good use and show me how much you like to suck my cock?”

“Yes, Sir” Sam said, licking his way down, let his tongue explore the inside of Dean’s thighs, let his tongue swirl around his balls playfully, getting Dean to make very interesting sounds, because this was something new and not expected. His little brother knew a trick or two Dean hadn’t taught him, after all, and he knew how to work them real good. Once Sam had put his hand around the base of Dean’s cock and licked the precum off, let his lips travel down, closing them, using his mouth just like he was born to do, Dean found himself thrusting his hips up into Sammy’s mouth. He grabbed his baby brother by the hair, tight, and _felt_ Sam moan around his cock. That made sure he didn’t last long. For not having any appetite, Sam surely was eager to swallow. Dean opened his arms to Sammy, let him crawl back up, rest on Dean’s heaving chest. 

“I did good, Sir?”

“Oh, yes, sweetness, very, very good. Now, today, you eat lunch like it was my cum, you hear me?”

Sam nodded.

“I will, Sir.”

“Color, sweetness?”

Sam wasn’t sure he liked being told what to do outside of bed in general, but right now, he loved it. Might actually work, too, and he _knew_ , of course, he had to start eating. This would probably be distracting enough to help him with that weird feeling that prevented him from eating. Maybe.

“Green, Sir.”

“Good, babe” Dean said. He felt, knew, how hard it was for Sam to try and be still, not rub his aching cock against him. 

“Now, let me show you what you get for being good, Sammy.”

Dean did, hands, mouth, sucking and biting until Sammy would have bruises reminding him tomorrow, which Sam would love. Soon, Sam was incoherent, well lubed up fingers tagging his prostate until he thought he would go crazy, trying not to make a sound, failing miserably, but the isolation was good in this old country house. They probably wouldn’t hear him. Probably.

“Doing so good, sweetness, I know it’s hard to keep quiet. Why I wouldn’t fuck you, remember?” Dean said, hard again from watching his brother writhe, not in agony now, no, the other way around. 

“Yes, Sir, ohmyfuckinggod Dean I’m gonna come, so good, fuck, fuck…”

Dean pulled out his fingers. 

“No, please Sir, don’t, more, more” Sam begged, too far gone to be able to be quiet.

“Speak when spoken to, babe” Dean teased, refusing to do anything except for keeping body contact. 

Sam almost cried. He didn’t get as much as the touch of a finger anywhere for several minutes, going crazy but not begging. No, he had to be good. 

Finally, Dean leaned in and whispered in Sam’s ear.

“Babe, Jody took all the girls to introduce the Roadhouse to Charlie. Celebrate our victory. We’re all alone here.” 

Sam moaned, couldn’t help it.

“What’s that, sweetness? You think about something?”

“You said you would fuck me when I could scream, Sir. Please, please, god, do that” Sam answered. 

“I will, babe. Just had to let you calm down a little bit.”

Dean maneuvered them with practiced ease, lifted Sam’s hips up to the angle where he could do what he’d promised. Sam was locking his legs around Dean, begging, begging to get that cock inside him. When Dean started to fuck him, Sam was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, the hottest mess one could imagine. First time Dean’s hips met Sam’s ass, Sam _screamed_. Once Dean started to fuck him like he promised, after getting Sam’s ass well acquainted with his thick cock, good and hard, he knew Sam would get a bit hoarse from all that screaming. 

What Dean hadn’t fully anticipated, was that he would be, too.


	11. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says - Sam and Dean gets back on the road, have a great day and meet someone new.

“You’re always welcome here, you know that, kid” Jody said.

“I know, Jodes. But Baby isn’t meant to be parked, you know. And those evil son-of-a-bitches won’t gank themselves” Dean Winchester said, flashing her a smile. 

When she got back to the house, after hearing the car purr for Dean (him and that car, jeez) and then skid happily off to wherever they were going, she went to her locked drawer to get the pills, flush them. That kind of juice, she didn’t need in a house full of more or less troubled teenagers. Been a while since she had anyone under 13 there, but even then, she wouldn’t want these things in the house. Only, they weren’t there for flushing.

“Goddamn it, Dean” she cried out, raised her hand in the air in a gesture of anger and worry. 

So that’s why he didn’t ask for them back. Thought it’d be easier just to take them. There was a note, in there. 

_You know I could just get new ones, don’t you? You’re just gonna have to trust me on this, Jodes. I’m not running anywhere. And if I were, you can’t always be there to stop me, that’s something I have to do myself. Love, Dean._

Jody sat down with the note on her bed. She didn’t like what Dean had done, but she got his point. He was impossible to control, she had to trust he would listen. Would be the good man he could be, not the broken shard John had tried to make him. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

Dean was singing, driving to fast, all smiles and over-flowing energy. He’d been stuck way too long, that was for sure. Sam enjoyed watching his brother like this, so happy. 

“Dean?”

“Yes, sweetness, whatever you want, ask now, because I’m so fucking happy to be driving Baby I’ll give you the damn moon if you want it.”

“Would you stop with the off-key thing and sing to me?”

Dean laughed. 

“Forgot you knew about that.”

“Yeah, but I do. Please, Dean.”

“Just don’t tell anyone.”

Dean had the voice of a rock-star. Dark, gritty, hoarse, breaking up in the sexiest way in the higher register. Amazing. Sam had listened to him when they were kids, but he’d never heard the grown-up Dean Winchester sing. It was an amazing change, his voice slowly developing from kind of cute pop to all the way rock. 

Riding in the classic car, listening to his brother sing, beautiful scenery passing by in an exhilarating speed, Sam felt like he was high, soaring, free. The after work-out soreness made him feel every part of his body, like he was all there, all alive. If someone would have asked Sam Winchester, there and then, where he was, he would have answered heaven. He’d say he’d wish it never would stop. And Dean would not argue with that. 

But, every day ends, and every car needs to be re-fueled, every human being must sleep. Rolling into town, the one that just happened to be there when the Winchesters decided they would have to stop sometime, they saw a tattoo shop. None of them could explain why this little place, in Town Number Four, caught their interest, but it did. The man, in his forties but still very good-looking, who owned it turned out to be the best damn tattoo artist for many, many miles, settling down in his home town. He smiled and snickered at Dean.

“Bad boy like you, and no ink? Time for that to change, honey.” 

Dean’s face when he was given a pet name, just like that, was priceless. Sam laughed so hard he thought Dean would punch him in the face to shut him up, but they still ended up staying in that little shop. Dean, of course, could draw any number of useful symbols from memory, and Rufus, as the man was called, looked a bit puzzled.

“Not the usual kind of bad boy, are you sweetheart? Well, I’ll show you what we’re gonna do.” 

And faster than they could imagine possible, he had linked the symbols together, to a pattern that he drew freehand right on Dean, made it play beautifully around his arm, up to the collarbone and over the chest. Dean had only planned for like one symbol somewhere it wouldn’t show too much, but he had to admit it looked damn good. Then Rufus filled the pattern out with a symbol Dean hadn’t given him, had never seen. 

“This one should complete it, honey. They say it’s like a vaccine against demon possession. Makes it impossible for the little fuckers to get in you. At least, that’s what they say. You know, if you believe in that kind of thing.” 

Then Rufus _winked_ at Dean and patted his ass, which made Dean switch facial expressions very rapidly, not really knowing how to react to all this. Sam, of course, kept laughing. He wasn't afraid Dean would do anything to this weird tattoo guy, even if Rufus was a bit too much. Dean had a kind heart, wasn't dangerous to weird guys patting him on the ass. 

“No worries, I’ll make something for your boy-toy here as well. How old are you, kid, sixteen?”

Sam stopped laughing.

“I’ll be eighteen any day now” he said, glaring at the guy who had the audacity to question his and Dean’s relationship like that. 

“Oh, so you have a temper, too. Good for you, little one.”

“Too?” Dean asked, still watching the symbols that waited to be etched into his skin. 

“Oh, I know your type, honey. You might come off all smiling and carefree, but underneath… I wouldn’t touch this one, let me just say that.”

“No, you wouldn’t” Dean answered. 

Rufus laughed again and got to work on Dean, while Sam researched that symbol Rufus had drawn. 

It turned out, they would have to come back the day after, because however good Rufus was, he didn’t have the time to do all that work in the time given. 

“I’m too old to burn the midnight oil. You come back at nine, and we’ll finish up. Something tells me you won’t need to stop because it hurts, honey. But you’ll still have to come back for final touch-ups in a month or so. And your sweetheart here, I need an hour or so for him too.”

Walking home, Sam told Dean that he hadn’t found the symbol anywhere, but when he chatted with Charlie she had. It seemed to be very, very old magic. And Charlie thought it was for real. 

“That guy has secrets, Sammy. I don’t think he’s gonna tell us just yet, but I’m curious as hell. I’ll look good though, won’t I?”

“Yes you will, you bad boy you.” 

“Shut your face, little brother, or you ain’t getting any of _this_ tonight” Dean said, shamelessly flaunting himself as he shed the leather jacket coming home. 

“Then I’ll be quiet as a mouse, because watching you like that in the shop, Dean, I got so hard.” 

“Sammy, oh my, I think you’re learning dirty talk!”

“Since you are fluent I thought I might try it out. You want me to stop?”

“No, sweetness. I really don’t. Come here.” 

\--- --- --- --- ---

When they got back to Rufus’ place, both of them were fascinated with the ease and craftmanship the tattoo artist displayed. He explained Sam would have to wait to get something bigger, because “you’re still growing, and I need to see how these muscles will grow before I do too much”. Rufus, of course, didn’t need to be told that Sam, too, would need that symbol. For Sam, he weaved a pattern around the arm, right below the elbow. When he was done, he got some smelly stuff on them, topped it off with plastic and instructions on how to take care of the tattoos and sent them on their way.

“Be back in a month or so” he said, and counted out the money Dean handed over without complaints, even if it probably was double the prize any other tattoo artist would take. Rufus was worth it, and Dean would gladly pay ten times that just because of that old symbol they had gotten for free. 

“Okay, so while Rufus made you whimper and whine about that little tattoo, I finally found us a case.”

“I did NOT whine!”

“You didn’t? Oh, that was what I heard. Anyway, this case…”

That teasing could drive Sam crazy, but it was comforting too. It made him feel a part of a whole, like it was them against the world (which is kind of was). It made him believe they belonged together, that he belonged. That all those years unwanted was finally over. And if Dean believed he could be a hunter, he could. Yellow-eyes could go fuck himself.


	12. Fucking Witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers go hunting and end up using a disguise twice.

“I fucking HATE witches” Dean Winchester grumbled.

“How do you know it’s witches?” Sam asked.

Without a word, Dean tossed him a little bag filled with mysterious and/or disgusting items. 

“Next time, I want to go with you to the crime scene” Sam sulked as he was watching the bag more closely. Disgusting was no excuse not to.

“Sweetness, it’s hard enough for me to make them believe I’m someone they need to let in the door. You look like a little pop princess these days, since Jody fixed your hair up.”

That comment made Sam forget about the crime scene.

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, Sammy, I love it. Just teasing, babe.”

Sammy smiled. 

“You know, that priest thing is kind of hot.”

“You kinky little bastard” Dean said, flashing his most charming smile Sam’s way. The one that still hit Sammy in the gut, just the right way.

“Maybe I should confess my sins and you should spank me” Sammy continued, mischievous smile.

“That what you want babe? Careful what you wish for.”

“Have I not wanted anything so far?”

“Sweetness, we’ll have to keep these clothes for later, because you just earned yourself a good spanking. But, ganking witches comes first.”

Sam, however badly he wanted to gank witches, was suddenly longing for that part to be over. He sighed, made himself look at the insides of the witch bag to lose his beginning erection. It almost worked.

“So, what does this witch bag mean?”

“Hex bag, Sammy, and it’s like a beacon for the witch’s magic missiles. They fill it up with blood, pee, snot, herbs, teeth, whatever the spell calls for and they can vomit out.”

“PEE and SNOT?” Sam half yelled and threw the hex bag down on the table. Any signs of erection gone, check. 

“Well, I haven’t heard of snot yet. But they do love to spew bodily fluids all around them. Damn unsanitary, is what they are” Dean said, annoyed but still making it sound like it was totally normal to carry around bags with someone else’s pee in them. Which Sam guess it was for a hunter. 

“Okay. Fine. I’m good now. What do these witches look like? Are they like, normal human beings, or are they old hags with skin issues?”

“That’s the problem, Sammy. They could look like anyone. Some witches are even hot, you know. I accidentally got one in bed once. Kinky fucker, too.”

Sam looked like he wanted to revive the witch, so he could kill them again.

“Before I got you back, babe.”

“I know. Don’t like it anyway.”

“Sweetness, you are one jealous boyfriend” Dean snickered, tugging at Sam’s hair (Jody kept it long, just like Dean wanted). 

“I am? Your boyfriend?” Sam said.

“Sammy, that doesn’t cover it” Dean said, serious for once. “You are my everything.” 

Sam though he might cry.

“Oh-oh, Sammy, no chick flick moments right now. We have witches to gank, little brother.” 

“Yeah, right” Sam answered, collecting himself. _His everything_ , he thought, deciding not to point out who had said what to whom. This would carry him through any day, pee or snot or whatever came his way. “So, how do we do that?”

“Witch-killing bullets usually do the trick. Picked those up from a book you’d like to read. Only, it’s in Latin.”

“Dean, I do read Latin!”

“Of course you do. If it’s all numbers and weekdays.”

“Futue te ipsi” Sam answered angrily. 

Dean laughed. 

“Okay then, babe. The nice fiancée of Peter Cheney told me he was having an affair, so the witch we’re looking for probably was fucking him on a semi-regular basis.” 

“She just told you that?”

“You have to ask the right questions, Sammy. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, puppy dog eyes and everything. Now, let’s hack into Cheney’s credit card statements. Watch and learn, babe.” 

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“Twenty-four hours a day for fifteen years will get you a long way” Dean answered. “And my vast knowledge is kind of spotty. I know rock bands, cars and hunting.”

“Dean, the way I see it, you could easily be a computer technician, counsellor, personal trainer, mechanic, linguist, field medic, singer, folk lore researcher or detective. And you haven’t even turned twenty-two yet.”

“Jack of all trades, master of none, Sammy. And you left out career criminal, which I actually am, and a damn good one, too.”

“Don’t do that. That’s Dad speaking. You are so much more than that.” 

“Not in any need of counselling or career coaching here, Sammy. I’m fine just the way I am, if that’s enough for you.”

“Dean, you can’t really… you are more than I could ever wish and hope for.”

“Awesome. More of this touchy feely crap” Dean answered, but Sam could tell how his big brother really felt about what he had said.

“Okay, we’ll get to it. Show me, then.”

Later that night, they were spying on one Kendall, twenty-six and beauty technician. She didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, but Dean wasn’t about to give up. When she left for work in the morning, he switched strategy.

“You need sleep, Sammy?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

The daily work-out routine and eating until he was full every day had done wonders for Sam’s health. He had a lot more energy these days. 

“Then let’s go see what Kendall hides in there.”

“We’re gonna break in her house?”

“Career criminal, Sammy, remember? And, bonus, I won’t burn this one down. At least not if I can’t burn the witch with it.”

“She’s still a person, isn’t she?” Sam asked, a bit troubled. “I mean, she could just stop being a witch if she wanted to, right?”

“’If she wanted to’ being the key words here, babe. It’s addictive, being a witch.”

“You haven’t touched those pills since last time, Dean.”

“Sam, that is not the same. If she is a witch, she won’t stop, trust me, not even if she _doesn’t_ have a contract with a demon, which she probably has.”

Sam wasn’t fully convinced about this, but he decided this conversation could wait until they were done committing a crime. He watched Dean get the back door open in a few seconds (“they really shouldn’t be allowed to make locks as crappy as this one” he mumbled). 

“You’re gonna teach me to do that?” Sam whispered as they entered the house.

“One thing at a time, Sammy.”

Hidden in the walk-in-closet they found stuff Sam would have thought was signs of a satanic cult not too long ago. Dean sighed.

“Why do the bunnies always get screwed in the process, Sammy? They’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“Dean, you eat the bunnies’ friends every single day.”

“I need food. Witches don’t need to kill people. But if they do, they need to be put down. I’ll make sure you get your revenge, Roger Rabbit” Dean said, talking to the dead animal hanging from the roof.

That’s when they heard the front door open. Dean had the gun in hand before the witch was inside, silencer mounted before she put the keys in the bowl right inside the hallway. Sam did need some more time, but not much. Practice makes perfect. 

“Either she forgot something, or she’s got a silent magic alarm, Sammy. Now, code red, little brother, we’re about to kill a witch.”

“Let me try and talk to her first, Dean.”

After some silent cursing Dean couldn’t stop Sam from doing just that. The witch, sadly, did not appreciate the effort and Sam found himself struggling for air until Kendall hit the ground, bullet right between the eyes. Dean decided not to say, “I told you so” on account of his brother looking so sad. Sam, after all that had happened to him, had warmed up to the idea of people being good after recent experiences that proved they could be. This witch was not part of that group of people, but she was still a person, and Sam didn’t want to kill people. Especially not since he knew a demon had tried to make him go darkside. 

They drove for a few hours, checked in, took showers (this one was way to small to fit them both) and got some sleep. Waking up, Sam snuck inside Dean’s arms, finding that perfect spot to rest his head.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You mind putting those priest clothes on after breakfast?”

Given the choice of warm Sammy or warm bacon, Dean had to struggle to remember that breakfast was needed for stamina. He didn’t plan on making the little role-play he’s brother had suggested a rushed affair, so he rushed them to a diner instead, both of them inhaling food so that they could get back to their room again. 

Finally back, Dean got the priest outfit from the trunk and changed as promised. That anybody had believed Dean was a man of the cloth was beyond Sam, but he guessed Dean was right. If you believe it, they will. Only it had _some_ limitations. Sam would’ve had to go for altar boy. Not the fantasy he would ever want to play out, though. 

“You ready to confess your sins, Sammy?” 

“Oh, yes, Sir” Sam answered, skipping the “Father” part. He didn’t like that. 

“Let’s hear it, then” Dean said with a stern voice. 

“I think about sex. All the time.”

“That’s a very bad thing to do” Dean said, fighting to stay in character. Being a priest was very far from his personality, and him telling anyone sex was bad was an even harder one to pull off.

“And I touch myself” Sam continued.

“Even when you are at work?” Dean asked, finding a new angle he could work with.

“Yes” Sam answered. 

“You know that’s wrong.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I think I will have to punish you myself for that. No Hail Mary’s will be enough for this one.”

“Yes, Sir” Sam said, already hard from watching Dean in those clothes and knowing what he had waiting for him. 

“Are you thinking about sex right now, Sammy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh, babe, are you gonna get it good.” 

Sam ignored the fact a priest probably wouldn’t call him babe. A priest wouldn’t be that goddamn sexy or get ready to spank him, either. 

“Sammy, I want your jeans and your boxers down, and I want you over my knee. Right now.” 

Sam found the position very shameful, which he loved. 

“Color, babe?”

“Green.”

“Okay. You tell me, right?”

“Yes, Dean, I will. You don’t have to do this all the time” Sam said.

“Sweetness, I really do.”

Then Dean gave Sammy exactly what he had wanted. Starting out slow, light, it barely stung, but by the end, Sam’s asscheeks were blushing and Sam himself was whimpering, squirming when Dean let his hand come down. That was not entirely because of the pain, though – Sam thought he might never have been this hard in his entire life. Dean let him stay where he was, spread lube all over his fingers and began massaging his way in between Sam’s cheeks, teasing around the hole for a good long while before he let Sam have the finger, one knuckle at a time. Before the second finger went in to stretch him out, Sam was begging and moaning, unable to stay still.

“Babe, if you can’t be still, I might have to spank you some more” Dean said, patting Sam’s ass lovingly. That, of course, made it worse. But Dean wasn’t about to go farther their first time, so he simply waited Sam out, let him calm down before he got back to thrusting fingers inside him, hitting the prostate until Sam screamed. Then, he got up, getting Sam up as well. 

“Now, you take all your clothes off, babe.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Down on your knees.” 

Sam followed the order, watching Dean still fully clothed in the black outfit, complete with the priest collar. Dean didn’t undress fully, he just pulled his pants down enough for Sam to have good access to his dick. For convenience, Dean was going commando. 

“You know what to do” Dean said and let Sam have a taste of his cock in that outfit. This was mainly for Sam’s sake, because even if he loved that pretty mouth on him, Dean was aching to fuck Sam. But he knew his brother would love this, and he also wanted him to last a little bit longer. Sam wasn’t allowed to suck and lick and do all those little tricks he had learnt for too long, Dean tugged him roughly by the hair and bent his head back. 

“Against the couch. Now” he said, voice even deeper and with more rasp than usual. That made Sam crazy, the sound of his brother being in such raw need for him. He couldn’t bend over the couch fast enough.

“Color?”

“ **Green**.”

“Then, babe, I will fuck you. And I won’t be taking my clothes off. I will fuck you raw wearing this priest collar, fuck you against the couch like a little slut, always thinking about sex, always so hard for me.”

That almost made Sam come before Dean even started. This time, Dean would take breaks for both of their sakes, not really teasing Sam as much as he was trying to make them both enjoy this a little bit longer. Sam was making it a habit to come untouched, Dean thought to himself afterwards. Amazing how much his brother loved his dick inside him, loved being fucked until he would walk funny in the morning (because Dean was a little bit on the big side for fucking anyone like that, but Sam didn’t mind – not a bit). And Sammy wanting kinky stuff and asking for it – totally awesome.


	13. Pamela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of build-up for the story arc and some touchy feely stuff.

“Jody called, Sammy. She got that Pamela-person out of the hospital and Charlie wants us to come say hi.”

“I don’t mind seeing Jody and Charlie again” Sam answered as he was getting out of the shower. Young as he was, the training hours were already starting to show. He was filling out nicely. That reminded Dean that they should stop at Rufus’ tattoo shop on the way. It was a bit overdue, but they had hunted almost non-stop over the last weeks. Sam was a natural, learning so fast, but he still was seventeen and unexperienced, so he would have to sulk from time to time if he felt the need to. He wasn’t getting near any really risky action no matter what he did. 

“Sammy, looking good” Dean said, with an appreciative look that made Sam blush. But then, he dropped the towel, watching Dean under those curly cute popstar bangs. 

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so. And I’m a very good judge, considering how many people I’ve gotten naked over the years” Dean teased.

“Do you always have to say things like that” Sam complained, giving Dean one of his trademark angry glares. Sam could do bitchface like a pro.

“Why not? It’s funny” his big brother snickered. “And also, we can’t talk too much about how good you look naked, or I will fuck you silly. Then you’ll take another shower and we’ll start over. We need to get going, Sammy.” 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

“Welcome in, honey. Bit late, but I think you two had important things to do. Not killing _time_ , you know.”

Rufus emphasis on the word “time” implied he knew they had been killing other things. Dean was about to ask him if he was a part of the community, but decided to play the same game. 

“Yeah, we had a few things to take care of that couldn’t wait. People get hurt when you don’t meet that kind of deadlines, you know.”

Rufus smiled. “Thought so, handsome. Now let me take a peek at you. Too early for a whiskey?” 

“It’s always happy hour somewhere” Dean said with a smile and a shrug.

“And boy-toy?”

Sam’s angry glares didn’t affect Rufus that much, or at all, really. He just smiled, just like Dean did when he was teasing. 

“Where I come from, not being twenty-one, not really an issue” Dean said, gesturing for Rufus to make that three glasses, so he did. 

Dean got the work done without any fuss. His pain threshold was a lot higher than other people’s. John had made sure of that, forcing him to keep a hand in icy water until he was told to remove it, among other things. _“You need to toughen up, son. Some things will hurt a lot more than that.”_ Not being hit didn’t mean Dean was never physically abused as a child, even if the silence and the apparent disappointment was a lot worse. So much worse he kept that hand in the water no matter how much it hurt, without a sound. 

“You ready to start something else up right away?” Rufus asked, eyeing Dean’s back. 

“Anything special in mind?” Dean asked, looking at the flawless craftmanship flowing over his skin.

“I’ll draw it up on your back, because I think you’ll believe angel wings are way to cute for you. But believe me, angels are not fluffy wings and harps. Read the bible if you don’t believe me. They are fierce warriors. And you, honey, are on your way to fight like one, hopefully not as one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Rufus?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll let you know when I can, honey.”

“That’s the kind of shit my father was pulling all the time. Don’t really like it” Dean snarled. 

“Oh, I know. John is an asshole, you don’t mind me saying so” Rufus said. 

The Winchesters stared at him. 

“Yeah, I did my homework, because I sensed something about you. Believe me, I’m on your side. I just can’t tell you everything yet. You have to trust me, Dean, even if I know how hard that is for you” Rufus said with a cautious smile. 

Sam looked at his brother, waiting for Dean to make up his mind. He had trust issues too, to put it lightly, but he would jump of a cliff if Dean told him that was the best thing to do. No matter how bad it could hurt, he’d given Dean his heart, and it was irreversible. 

“Fine” Dean growled, because even if his brain (really) didn’t like it, his gut told him Rufus was telling the truth, and Dean was very used to listening to his gut. It had never let him down. Dean didn’t know why, with his upbringing, he always knew the right way to go, he just did. Being forced to go in opposite directions were the worst things John Winchester had ever done to him.

“Good” Rufus said. “But this new one, we’ll have to build over some time. Promise you it will be worth it, though.” 

The way Rufus said it made Dean believe he meant it would be worth it for other things than looking good, so he let Rufus draw it up and start working, right after he put finishing touches on Sam, who still would have to wait. 

“Next time, we do you, boy-toy, because you need some more ink too.”

Sam grumbled and drank some more whiskey, watching Rufus work on Dean. Whatever else he was, the man was a genius at what he did. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

On the road again, Dean was a bit uncomfortable driving. His back was all sore from the tattoo and he wanted it to heal as fast as possible. As a hunter, his life depended on being in perfect shape. Sam was studying as usual in the car on the way to Jody’s. He knew he was asking too many questions when the old school hard rock was pumping out at a deafening volume, which would happen from time to time.

“Sammy, baby, you don’t have to spend every waking hour learning stuff. Sometimes, just have some fun.”

“I have fun. It’s usually involving you and your dick, if you haven’t noticed.”

Dean laughed. 

“Fine, sweetness. Just don’t overdo it. Only so much your brain can take in on a daily basis, you know.”

“I want to be of use.”

“You are.”

“Not as much as I could be. And I believe what Rufus said, if it’s true, means we’re in for one hell of a battle.”

“If it is, I don’t want you in it.”

“Dean, see, that’s where you don’t get a choice. You get me ready or I go in anyway.”

Dean sighed. He knew he would pretty much have to tie Sam up (and not in the fun way) if he wanted to keep him out. His brother might follow his lead without question most days, but he did have limits. And Dean wasn’t John. He wasn’t about to try and force his family to do something they absolutely refused to do. Even if it meant Sam would be exactly where Dean really, really, **really** didn’t want him. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

“Hiya Jody” Dean said, all smiles. 

“You know you don’t deserve a warm welcome the way you left, leaving that note” Jody answered.

“But I’ll get one anyway.”

“You are so lucky I still see that little kid when I look at you. Sam, has he been good?”

“He has.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Charlie came running out of the house, hugging both boys. 

“Hey, guys! I’ve got the latest demon chatter ready for you. Why send it when you’re coming here, right?”

“Hey there, Charlie” Dean said, smiling. “You’re good here?” 

“Sure, now that Pamela is here. You know, I thought you promised me to get her straight away?”

“Sweetheart, don’t you think it’s better Jody’s way? It’s enough to have to hide you.”

“Yeah, yeah” Charlie said, rolling her eyes. 

Her and Dean continued the lighthearted bickering, and Sam thought to himself that the way this was going, he might have a sister soon, too. Then a dark-haired woman joined them outside the house. Her curls were wild, and Sam would put his money on that she was, too. 

“This here is Pamela” Charlie said to them.

Pamela drew a deep breath.

“You need to listen to Rufus, Dean” she said, stone cold serious. 

There was a little silence there. 

“So, not crazy. Psychic” Dean finally said. “Hello to you too, Pamela.”

“Hi, and sorry about that. It just has to come out, sometimes.” Pamela took a good look at Dean, up and down and up again. “Mmm, Charlie didn’t say you were such a handsome devil. And aren’t you just the cutest thing, littlest Winchester.”

Sam would have sent that angry look at Pamela for flirting with his brother, but he got too worried about what Pamela was saying. At least until Dean gave Pamela that look, that appreciative look. Pamela was probably twenty years older than Dean, but he never cared much about that. Experience, that was hot. Dean could be using flirting back to jerk Sam out of worrying, but Sam didn’t like it very much either way. Still, he took a deep breath and didn’t let it put a damper on the happy occasion. 

Claire, still blonde and reminding of a feral cat somehow, with those bad girl-clothes, hair and make, let that warm heart shine through her smile when she greeted them. Sam enjoyed catching up with her, Jody and Charlie. Pamela was a bit intimidating, but he liked her, too. Dean definitely did. When they went to sleep somewhere right before the sun would come back, in the room that had become theirs last time (and also the one least popular because it was in the basement, and therefore probably free whenever they came around), Sam had to ask about that. Dean got him close, kissed him like only Dean could.

“Babe, for you, I’ll walk the line for the rest of my life, don’t you worry. But I’m not the jealous type, I don’t always get that thing. You tell me when you don’t like what I do, and I’ll stop. Never thought I would ever consider monogamy, but I would fucking never have sex ever again if it was what I had to give up being with you.”

“With other people” Sam said, not entirely happy about that answer. 

“Or with you. I don’t want you because we have awesome sex, Sammy. I want you because I… ehrm… love you. I’ll stay with you whatever happens.”

Sam hadn’t realized he’d been worried if he was enough for Dean, who had been sleeping around for years, never even considering keeping anyone for more than one night. He hadn’t been sure Dean would be willing to be a one-person-man when the intoxicating first attraction wore off. Maybe that’d been why he’d felt so threatened when other people flirted with his brother. Or probably. He didn’t say anything, but he curled up close to Dean in bed, fell asleep warm and safe, which was answer enough.


	14. Twenty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester has a birthday that ends up with Sam getting the perfect gift (and hey, nobody gets naked!) Just fun and sweet, we'll get back to more serious stuff soon enough.

“Sammy, I want you to remember what I told you.”

“I will. Don’t trust other hunters. They are all headcases. Got the memo, big brother.”

Dean telling him that didn’t help the nervousness. Sam was about to meet a lot of other people, and he’d never been to a party this size. If it wasn’t for Jody’s car following them, it would be a lot worse. 

“Never wanted a party” Dean grumbles. 

“I thought you loved parties” Sam said. He had seen this, a couple of times now, Dean having a few (or a lot of) beers after a hunt. Dean was an easy person to be around when he wanted to, always making new friends, at least for the night. But he always went home with Sam, even if he got a lot of invitations to stay the night with someone else. That didn’t bother Sam that much anymore, because he knew Dean was his and his only. 

“Not when they’re for me.”

“You love being the center of attention.”

“Not really, Sammy, not like this. When I choose who I am, when it’s for fun, sure. Like this, no.”

Dean would be twenty-two in a day and this was going to be celebrated at the Roadhouse, a place where hunters went between hunts. 

“And these people are fucking insane” Dean continues.

“Jody said you loved them.”

“Those things are not mutually exclusive, you know.”

\--- --- --- --- --- 

Jody helped Sam ease into the very loud crowd. Hunters tended to really let go when they went off duty. When Dean entered the Roadhouse, (that was looking like most run-down places offering beer to passers-by), a roar went through the room. 

“Dean fucking Winchester, come here!” 

He was loved, Dean. Everybody’s little brother when he grew up, a trusted member of the hunter community, always ready to help with a smile and a joke. Now, the hunters wanted to show him that the only way they knew. Within ten minutes, he was going on drunk. Jody had told Sam beforehand, even if Dean did his best it would be hard for him not to be dragged off all the time. Sam said that was okay; this was Dean’s birthday. Still, Dean did his best to return and introduce hunters to his little brother best he could. Some of them introduced themselves, very curious about the younger Winchester. Sam smiled and talked and felt at home after an hour or so, loved the feeling of being welcomed into a group, of people caring for who he was, not how much money they would get from taking him in. He told Dean to go have fun, he was just fine in a corner with Jody, half participant, half spectator. He had fun, too. 

“Hey, guys, the party’s tomorrow” Dean tried to say next time a group of hunters surrounded him. 

“Don’t you workout freaks always talk about warming up before going full speed? Let’s warm up, Dean. Here, whiskey makes you warm.”

His brother was swept away as Jody gave him the gesture telling him she’d take care of Sam. He, Claire and Charlie represented the new generation, and Jody told them very straight up there was no way they would get to try and keep up with the hundred or so hunters joining the party. 

“Anyone gets wasted, you’re going home. I don’t care if you miss the party. When you two are out of my house, you can go be stupid. And Sam – I want you to remember Dean’s party” she said, and continued “even if he won’t” with a sigh and an eyeroll. 

The new generation and their self-appointed general went to sleep at about three in the morning. Four hours later, some of the hunters dropped Dean off in bed, laughing. 

“Sleep like a baby, we’ll start over soon” the man called Ash drunk-whispered (very loud). 

Dean slept, although not like a baby, babies didn’t snore like that. Around eleven, he woke up. He stumbled out of the room looking like hell. Before Sam, who was back in the main room, could even greet him with a “morning”, Ash greeted him with a whiskey. 

“Pick-me-ups are always on the house, Dean” he said. 

Dean swallowed, very close to throwing up. They were enjoying this, his headcase friends.

“Like everything else for this weekend, kiddo” one of the other hunters laughed. 

Dean forced the whiskey down and accepted the two bottles of water Jody offered him. Then he returned to bed and slept until three. When he got back up, he was looking good again. Jody watched him, wondering if that was just because of his youth or if he had something else to help him, but she didn’t ask. But she really didn’t like it when Dean, after giving his brother a tender kiss on the cheek, disappeared behind the bar with Ash. Sam could see her dislike from a mile away. 

“You don’t trust Ash, Jody?”

“About as far as Charlie can throw him. He’s a fucking genius, Sam. Everything Dean knows about computers, Ash has taught him. He’s also an insane maniac with a lot of bad habits, that I’d prefer Dean didn’t pick up.” 

Sam didn’t like the sound of that, but there was very little he could do about it now, if he wanted his brother to enjoy the celebration thrown in his honor without interruptions. He shook his head, as if it could make the thoughts disperse, and got back to getting to know Ellen and her daughter Jo, who owned the Roadhouse. They had been very happy to see Dean, and Jody had already promised (no matter what Dean’s original plans had been) they would stay a few days, when the other hunters went back to the road (hunters mostly didn’t have homes to go back to). It was hard to get to spend quality time with Dean Winchester right now.

If the party had ever stopped, it sure had been back on track when Sam ate breakfast at around nine, and it only got louder and wilder as the hours went by. The soundtrack was “Best of Dean Winchester” which Jody had set up. At about nine that night, Dean was about to get back to the state he’d been in the day before when Sam went to bed. That was when the music stopped. Hunters had carried a home-made stage inside, complete with microphone and all. This, Sam had been a part of, and he hoped Dean wouldn’t be too angry with him because of it. Jody had told him the hunters closest to his brother would fuck with Dean someway, and Sam had suggested this. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, hunters and everybody else” Ellen said in the mic, catching the attention from the ones too drunk to wonder why the music was suddenly gone. One of them was Dean, turning around to see the stage without a clue what was going in. “For one night only, we will hear from the one and only, hunter gone singer, DEAN WINCHESTER!”

It took Dean a few seconds to understand what he had heard, seconds in which he was transported to the stage and up to the mic. He looked like he was about to flee, but realized that the hunters surrounding him was making that impossible. He grabbed the mic.

“Sammy, when I get to you, I’m gonna fucking kill you” he said and caused roaring laughter. “I don’t sing if there’s no music.”

That was not the best way to get out of singing, because suddenly, music was all around him. Ash on drums, Jo on electrical guitar, and, surprisingly, Charlie on bass, some other hunter Sam didn’t know on second guitar. One of the most well-known riffs of all the time, “Smoke on the Water”. Dean Winchester, just drunk enough, gave up. 

The other hunters had thought what Sam’d said was a joke, or at least that they were gonna get some karaoke that was kind of good (one or two of them had heard Dean sing off-key as he usually did), so when Dean began to sing, they actually got quiet. And that was something quite impossible to make happen that night. Sam smiled. His brother was amazing to hear, and see, up on a stage, and after the few first seconds, Dean relaxed and did what he might’ve been born to do, had it not been hunting. 

“When you said he could sing, you really meant it” Jody shouted in his ear halfway through “Bark at the Moon”. 

“And I can’t believe Jo can play guitar like that” Sam shouted back.

The band got a few songs good, had to give up on one, and then Jo said something in Dean’s ear. He shook his head, but then, she talked him into whatever it was she suggested, and all the others left the stage as she switched to acoustic and very loudly, in the mic, yelled at the hunters to shut the fuck up, using more curse words than Sam had ever heard in one sentence. She knew what was needed to get through to them.

  
So close, no matter how far  
Couldn't be much more from the heart  
Forever trusting who we are  
And nothing else matters  
Never opened myself this way  
Life is ours, we live it our way  
All these words I don't just say  
And nothing else matters  
Trust I seek and I find in you  
Every day for us something new  
Open mind for a different view  
And nothing else matters  
Never cared for what they do  
Never cared for what they know  
But I know  


When Dean had gotten that far, a tear was trickling down Sam’s cheek, because his brother had found his eyes. He was singing this one for him, and him only, with that goddamn perfect voice. Jody and the rest of the newbie-squad had arms around each other, also teary-eyed, and it was perfect. Just perfect. 


	15. The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have their first fight and have some make-up sex. A new player presents himself.

“I am going and you are not going with me.”

Life had been so good to Sam Winchester for two weeks. Hanging with the girls (Jody, Claire, Charlie, Ellen and Jo), going on a hunt (evil ghosts vanquished, check), lots and lots of loud sex. “Nothing matters” sung by the sexiest voice known to man ringing in his ear. That voice was not as well received by him right now, and it was not warm and vulnerable anymore. It was filled of ice and steel, a low growl that spoke volumes. Not too long ago, it would have scared Sam. It would probably scare most people. Dean Winchester, charming scoundrel with the strongest and warmest heart possible, had more sides to him. One of them was slipping through right now, the one hardened by keeping his hand in icy water no matter how excruciating the pain got.

“Dean, there has to be another way. I don’t want you to do that anymore!”

Dean’s eyes, all green fire, were burning him but Sam wouldn’t back down. He was so mad his defiant stance from his days of hating the world was back, only now, it had a bit more punch because now, he had more to back it up with. 

“There is no other way. You want to hunt with me, fine, this is it. This is what I do to keep you and Baby in whatever you need, Sam.”

“It hurts you, Dean, and I don’t want fucking clothes or fucking motel rooms if it means you go back on whatever you have in that bag of yours” Sam yelled, hazel eyes fired up as well.

“If you don’t trust me, Sam, this won’t work. You and me, we have to trust each other” Dean said, and it scared Sam witless to hear his brother even mention the possibility they weren’t forever.

“Then why can’t you trust me when I say this is the wrong way” Sam yelled and started to cry. All those emotions had to come out, and start throwing punches (which wouldn’t help) or crying were the ways open to him. 

Dean held him close. Sam tried to squirm out of it, to get him off, but Dean was still a lot stronger than him (if not taller) and he refused to let go. Once Sam had calmed down, he just repeated what he had said. There was no way out of this.

“I’m going, and you can choose if you want to go to Jody’s or if you want me to set you up at a safe location on your own. Your choice, Sammy, but this is what will happen.”

Sam didn’t feel like having people around, and he also didn’t feel like telling Jody why Dean had dropped him off there, so he opted for the second alternative. But after that, he wouldn’t say a word, and when Dean tried to kiss him goodbye, he wouldn’t let him. He knew Dean was going on seven years doing this now, killing people for money. Murdering them. He also knew that last time, Dean had come home less than whole. Sam still had nightmares about the two people he had gotten killed, one of them by his own hands. He knew it had been for the greater good, but it was still horrible. He didn’t know how many Dean had killed, including one of his own, but he didn’t want that number to get any bigger. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

**Dean**  
_Done with surveillance, another day and then I’m heading home._

**Dean**  
_Sam, answer my freaking texts or I’ll track your phone and check the cameras around you._

**Sam**  
_Fine._

Dean sighed and walked down the street to the bar he’d checked out on the way into town. He didn’t like lying to Sam, but after the fight they had when he left (their first fight, which Dean would really like to be their last) he wasn’t inclined to tell Sam the truth either. The truth was that the person he was contracted to get rid of was good and dead for several hours now and Dean was about to clean that memory out of his head the way John had taught him. The way all hunters did from time to time to live with what they’d seen. 

Didn’t take long, which it usually didn’t. “Hey there. You want to buy me a drink?” 

Six months ago, that girl would have gotten the Dean Winchester Experience. Now, he smiled and told her sorry, he was buying drinks for someone else, sadly enough not present at the moment. Whatever else he was about to do, sleeping around wasn’t on the list. That, he’d promised not to do, and Dean was a man of his word. 

“Okay, handsome. But when you realize you’re not built for monogamy, I’ll be over there” she said and winked. Returned to her giggling friends. 

“Why don’t you hit that, friend? Not your type?” the bartender said, firing off a charming smile. 

_When it rains, it pours_ , Dean Winchester thought. 

“Nah, not the problem. I really do have someone back home” he said with half a laugh.

“That someone not very happy about you being here, huh?” the bartender asked, giving Dean a refill. 

“No. But I’ll make it up to him” Dean said, mostly to himself.

“Well, you find yourself lonely, I get off at midnight” the bartender winks and then he’s off to serve the other guests. _It’s an open buffet with all the flavors you could wish for_ , Dean Winchester thought. Except for one. 

At midnight, Dean Winchester was lonely, but he wasn't looking for company. He had the company he needs waiting for him back at the motel, thanks to Ash. That and the new neat little tricks he’s learned were Ash’s birthday gifts to him. He knew other hunters would pay good money to have Ash teach them, but money has never really been important to that guy. He liked Dean because he’s funny, up for a party anytime and never needed anything explained twice. Those three things were what mattered to Ash. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Dean got up, it was way past lunchtime. Luckily Ash had gifted him with a full package, re-fueling included. Dean walked down to the closest diner to get some food. He wanted to be ready to drive in a few hours, get back to Sam before lunch the following day. On his way back, an older dude, dark-haired with a beard and a very expensive coat, started to walk with him. Dean really wasn’t in the mood and gave the guy an eyeroll telling him and everyone in sight how very not interested he was in any company.

“Dean Winchester, hungover from yesterday’s fun. Wake up. You really want to listen to this.” 

Dean hadn’t, of course, used his real name since he left Sam. He just kept quiet. This was the type of guy who would keep talking anyway.

“I happen to know there’s an upcoming fight and you will have to pick a side. When the time comes, Dean, pick mine. If you want that cute little Bambi you’re dragging around everywhere – except for here, for some reason – to stay by your side.”

Dean turned to tell the guy what his opinion of threats were, but there was no one to tell. The guy had vanished into thin air.

“Son of a bitch” Dean mumbled to himself. “Isn’t this nice and ominous.” 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Dean walked through the door, Sam pretended that his heart hadn’t been racing since he heard the Impala parking outside. He stayed put at his laptop, studying some old text or other, practicing his Latin. Dean threw his bag on the bed not used by Sam and walked up to his little brother, who fought with all he got not to turn around. Dean bent down, breathed in his hair and held him, surrounding him with that intoxicating smell. 

“Hey Sammy. How about we get some pizza and watch TV?”

“No thanks. Jerk.”

“How long you gonna be bitching about this, Sam? It’s done. It’s over. I’m home.”

Sam didn’t answer, but when Dean started to kiss his neck, he didn’t pull away either. Dean got down to the collarbone, giving Sam a good bite. Sam jerked and shuddered, in such a good way.

“Would you rather sulk or work up an appetite?” Dean teased, playing with Sam’s nipple. “I could make you feel so good, sweetness.”

The pet name and the feeling of Dean’s fingers squeezing his nipple through the t-shirt got to Sam. 

“I don’t want to. I’m still mad at you” he said, but the slight hoarseness in his voice said something entirely else.

Dean let him go. If Sam said he didn’t want to, that was his cue to not touch him, whatever the tone of Sammy’s voice said. 

“What if I made you, sweetness?”

“Made me?”

“What if, either you do as I say, or you get punished?”

Sam shuddered again. His stupid body didn’t listen to logic, didn’t care that he should be angry. It wanted Dean. 

“Punished how?” Sam heard himself say.

“Oh, it would hurt, babe. Maybe you need to be spanked to remember who to listen to.”

“Fuck” Sam said, knowing he was defeated.

“What’s that?”

“I won’t do what you say. You’ll have to spank me” Sam said, surrendering. 

“Well, I got you a present, sweetness. You might want to see it before I spank you. Remember in whose hands you are.”

Dean was gone, and when Sam turned around, he was shedding his clothes on the floor. Not stripping, no, but still, that half-done tattoo and all, Sam got a good look at the hotness of Dean Winchester before he got dressed again. 

Sam gasped and swallowed.

Dean had changed into a military uniform. 

“Is it real” Sam asked, blushing cheeks.

“Oh yes, sweetness, it’s very real. All for you.”

Suddenly, all the things he’d been so mad at seemed far away. He could take care of that later. After he’d gotten the most out of this. 

“You like me dressing up, don’t you, Sammy?” Dean asked. 

Sam nodded several times. 

“You want to listen to me now?”

“Yes, Sir” Sammy breathed.

“Good, sweetness. Because you are about to learn how we discipline people in the military. Up against the wall, Sammy. And… you can take those jeans off. I want you to lean on your forearms, and spread your legs, okay?”

“Yes, Sir” Sam said, jumped out of the jeans and assumed the position Dean had explained to him.

Dean was so close that his body heat warmed Sam, like the sun would his skin a summer day. So close, but no touch. Sam loved this part (too, he loved all the parts), when he didn’t know what was going to happen and the anticipation invaded every little cell of his body. Dean stood there a few seconds, then he leaned in to whisper in Sam’s ear, that uniform brushing against Sam. Dean put his hands next to Sam’s, made him see the uniform as he felt Dean surround him.

“You are not getting out of this easily, babe. I’m gonna give you what you need and you’re gonna beg me for more.”

Sam had absolutely no doubt about that, but Dean telling him, it always affected him the same way. He felt his dick getting harder, longing for touch. 

Dean backed up, and then he smacked Sam’s left asscheek, hard. 

“You think you’ll get too keep those on?” he asked.

“No, Sir.” 

Dean evened out the score, giving the other cheek the same treatment. Sam moaned.

“Color, babe?”

“Green.”

Sam had stopped telling Dean he didn’t need to ask, because it wouldn’t help. Whenever they did something a tiny bit different, Dean always made sure it was okay, no matter how obvious it was that Sam liked it. The Dean that had left him, the one who’d refused to listen to him, that one would never get into the bedroom, not even if Sam for some reason begged for it. In here, Dean was all his and always would be.

“Then, drop the rest of the clothes because you are going to get it now, sweetness.”

Sam did, and he loved it. Loved the pain, wanted it.

“You’ll be good now?” Dean asked.

“I’ll be whatever **I** want” Sam answered, provoking Dean to continue. Him, standing there all naked, getting punished by Dean in a military uniform, it was chasing every thought out of his head. All that was left was his crazy hard cock, his blushing ass, his brother’s mouth on his shoulder. 

Dean wouldn’t push him too far, though. He’d ask for color and right when he sensed Sam might be close to go for yellow, he stopped. Sam was already ready for more, because Dean had made sure to pause and stretch Sammy out, giving him one finger at a time, making him beg and curse. “Shit fuck fucking hell fuck Dean more more please” Sam moaned, eyes on the military-clad arm next to his, as the other hand was deep in his ass.

“Ready for an order, now, Sammy?”

“Always, Sir.”

“Oh, so it’s _always_ , now. Good baby, you’re getting to where I want you.” 

Sam’s entire body was heaving, waiting for his orders.

“Now, I want you to come to bed and ride me, sweetness. But the second, second you don’t stop when I tell you to, or you don’t do it the way I like it, you are getting no more of that, you understand? I’ll get mine anyway, but you, that depends.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll listen. I’ll be good.”

Dean helped Sam get to the perfect position (keeping the military shirt open but still on). Sam maybe hadn’t done this before, but his little brother never needed much in the way of instructions. He found his rhythm fast, and the problem for Dean was barking out orders when it was almost impossible getting any words out at all except for “fuck”. But he got Sam to stop after a while, both of them shivering, Dean getting his hand on Sam’s rock hard cock. 

“Now, you’ll continue, but you don’t come until I tell you to, right, sweetness?”

“Yes, Sir” Sammy somehow got out of his mouth. 

And he didn’t come. He was so close, fighting it with all he got, which was making Dean absolutely crazy.

“Now, Sammy, babe, you fucking come for me, this second” he pushed out between the moaning. That was the easiest order of all time, and Sam was coming before Dean had time to finish that sentence, convulsing around Dean which, if he wasn’t going to anyway, would send his big brother over the edge. Afterwards, they lay in bed for a very long time, Sam with his head in his special spot, Dean casually and gently touching him. 

“Fuck, I’ll be sore tomorrow” Sam said.

“Sweetness, are you okay?” Dean asked, worried.

“Oh, this is the only good thing you’ve done for some time” Sam assured him. “I’ll treasure my aching ass, but maybe we don’t have to leave right away? Sitting in the Impala all day long might be a teeny bit uncomfortable. And also, I’d probably need you to stop the car for other reasons.”

“And whatever could those reasons be?”

“Well, let’s say I wouldn’t mind you driving in that new uniform of yours.”

“Babe, you are awesome. I love you.”

“I know.” 

“And…?”

“You are so fucking great at making me come harder than I ever thought possible” Sam said, teasing. 

Dean laughed. 

“I’ll take that.”


	16. Ink for angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean learns more about the bigger picture.

Dean got off the phone. “Still not sure who that fucking vanishing guy was” he said, not happy.

“We’ll find out” Sam said, resting on the bed. “Why don’t we get to this haunting in the meantime?”

“Babe, I’m with you there. Just can’t shake what that fucker said.”

“Jody and Ellen got their feelers out. Nothing you can do about it right now.”

“Actually, there is. We’re going to see Rufus the second we’re done with this case, Sammy. He’s going to tell us more voluntary or I will make him.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

The haunting was of an old farmhouse, left alone for a long time. Then some stupid “paranormal investigators” showed up, and disappeared – probably because they finally found what they were looking for. The town police weren’t very worried. 

“This happened once before, a town over, with another of these creepy old houses. The ghost-team or whatever they call themselves went in, vanished, and showed up a week later claiming to have been “abducted” which was debunked by some pompous ass. I’m not getting my panties in a bundle over this one.”

“I think we’ll go out there anyway, just checking” Dean said. “I have to work to be paid, you know. Especially since I got little spy-cousin here to check what I’m doing.”

“Awful quick that girlfriend got a PI. And aren’t you very young to be one?” 

“Thank you, Sir” Dean said and fired off that smile. “Nice to meet you, Sharon” he continued as they turned to leave. The receptionist blushed. 

Sam and Dean collected stories about that house, using Dean’s smile and Sam’s puppy dog eyes (that he got working a while ago). A visit to City Hall and some extensive googling later, they agreed this was probably the parents of five kids that lived there some two hundred years ago still looking for more playdates. The playdates they’d arranged while they were alive seemed to always end up with someone dying, which made the good townsfolk turn into a mob. The entire family (kids included) were hanged and buried on the grounds in one big, unmarked grave.

“Remember this family next time ours is deemed dysfunctional” Dean says, shaking his head. “Do you know they think the kids were made to kill their playmates while the parents watched?” 

“Yeah, I read that story, too. How do we find that grave?”

“You read about the fact that they were buried with their murder toys?”

“Yeah. Oh. Metal detector.” 

“Yup. Let’s go hunt for treasures, sweetness.” 

“But the missing team?” 

“First, we kill the ghosts. Then, we look for them. They will be easier to find once we get rid of the captors. If they are still alive, which I doubt.”

“So we’re going up against up to seven angry ghosts.”

“Lucky they are all in one grave, Sammy. Be grateful for small favors. Not sure I want you there, though.”

“You need the back-up.”

“Did just fine without it, sweetness.”

“Most hunters do, until they don’t.” 

Dean sighed. 

“You have proven you can be useful, Sammy. Just don’t get killed, or I will fucking rip your throat out.”

“That won’t do me much harm if I’m dead, you know.”

“Shut your face.”

The house was very creepy, and it didn’t get less creepy when the sun started to abandon them. 

“Sweetness, let’s hurry this up. Wouldn’t mind burning those fuckers before it gets dark.”

Sam’s metal detector started to beep as if on cue. It signaled there were lots of metal down there, in the middle of nothing. They dug until they were both sweaty and panting, and then they dug some more. It was hard work, digging up graves, but it paid off. They reached bones just as the sun set and the only light left was the ones brought by the brothers. 

“You think we’ve got them all in here?” Sam asked. 

“Looks like. Let’s get out of this stinking hole and light them up” Dean answered.

Once they got up, they were greeted by the seven angry ghosts, which was not very surprising. 

“You are welcome to stay and play, but that is not how we play around here” the mother said, her eyes pitch black. 

“Sam, light them up” Dean said, cocked the sawed-off and shot the ghost full of rock salt. It wasn’t easy shooting that many, though, and he found himself switching to waving an iron crowbar around, instead. Lucky enough, Sam got rid of the creepy family fast, watching them scream in fear and frustration as they went up in flames with their bones.

“Tell me you didn’t need back-up just now” Sam said. 

“Would have found a way, sweetness. But you do make things easier. Now, let’s find us some idiots.”

And they did, down in the cellar, idiots that would never again visit a haunted house even if the story they had to tell would be a best-seller – especially if Dean hadn’t crushed every single piece of equipment they had, quieting any protests with those fiery green eyes and a few well chosen curses. Just to be safe, he also killed their phones, and then they were left to walk back to town, just in case they thought about reporting this to the police. Dean was warm-hearted, but he was also hardened. Saving people didn’t always mean coddling them, no matter how much Sam stared at him.

\--- --- --- --- --- 

“Don’t you think you could have been a little nicer to those ghosthunters” Sam asked in the car on their way to Rufus.

“No, I don’t.” 

“They were just stupid.”

“Sammy, I wade through disgusting shit weekly to save people. Being nice to all ass-hats out there is not in the job description. They live. That’s what important.”

Sam didn’t answer, but his face made it clear he wasn’t done on the subject. Dean turned up the volume, Sam picked up the laptop, and they let miles fly by in silence. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

“If it isn’t my favorite couple” Rufus said. He never commented on the fact that he knew they were brothers, and he still talked to them as if they were lovers – which, of course, was the truth. Too. 

“Hey, Rufus” Dean said, “we’re here for some answers.”

“That’s what I thought” Rufus said. “Let’s talk and getting some more ink on you at the same time.”

Sam and Dean had to wait for Rufus to finish up with a customer, but then he turned his sign to “closed” and gestured for Dean to get seated. 

“You want to know more about the angels.”

“You know, Rufus, I think “want” has passed. Now, I’m thinking “need” is a better word for it” Dean said. 

Sam did what he was told to do – watch Rufus, try and see if he was lying or leaving something out. Working on Dean’s tattoo gave Rufus the possibility to escape Dean’s keen eyes. Dean told Sam to do his best to stand in for the older brother’s more experienced observation, forcing him to repeat all the things he knew about tells three times as they drove into town.

“Well, sweetheart, I do know a thing or two that I can tell you now. One of those things is that we have a world war coming. This time, it really IS a world war. Demons and angels will scour the earth battling each other, and you, sweetheart, are smack in the middle of it. Sam there, he used to be a key player, destined to be Lucifer’s vessel. Only you cleaned him up, and now he’s not good enough anymore.”

“Lucifer. As in the **devil** , Lucifer?” Dean’s voice is low, steely, and Sam knows this is a lot worse than if he’s brother had gotten loud. 

“Yes. And you, my darling, were supposed to be big brother Michaels’ meatsuit. Only Michael won’t come down unless Lucifer comes up. You canceled old Lucifer’s invitation to the party, so Michael’s not that interested anymore. Now, instead of an apocalypse, we have a war coming that will kill us all just as effective, only a lot slower. Somehow, you are still considered a possible ally upstairs. Don’t know what they want you for, but I would really stay here until I get some of these things done, on you and on your little bro. They will hide you from angels and demons alike.”

“Sam?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You buying this?”

“I have no freaking clue. It’s all insane.”

“Rufus, how do you know all this?” Dean asked. It was clear he’d not decided what to think yet.

“I’m not telling you, sweetheart. But I promise you, this is the truth. I’ve paid a lot to get to it. Oh, and you will pay a lot for those tattoos, too. I hope you brought lots of cash.” 

\--- --- --- --- ---

On their way to check in at the motel, swinging by a thai restaurant to pick up some food, the brothers didn’t say much. The information was quickly given, but not very easy to take in. 

“I’m pretty sure Rufus believes what he says” Dean said when they entered the room they’d chosen. 

“And it fits with the demon blood and that weird beard-guy who told you about picking sides” Sam sighed. “The fact that it’s totally impossible doesn’t mean it’s not true, I guess.”

“If it _is_ true, Sammy, this is bigger than us. When we’re done at Rufus’ tomorrow, and I’m sure he hasn’t got any more to tell us, we’re heading back to Jody’s. My head is fucking spinning.”

“Mine too.”

“Maybe it’s all a hoax somehow.”

“I just don’t see what the angle would be, or who would be behind it. Dean, I think I might be going crazy over this.”

“Come here, sweetness. For tonight, it’s just you, me, the food and the TV.”

“Will you sing to me?”

“Mm-hm. What do you want to hear?”

“Sing ‘Nothing else matters’ again.”

“Okay, babe. You got it. Just need some food first.”


	17. This is what we're gonna do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam won't let Dean get away with a smile and a uniform, even if Dean thought he did.

They were in the car on their way to Jody’s, and Dean had a sore back once again. Rufus had done beautiful work. The angelwings weren’t fluffy, they were fierce, coming out from the spine like dark shadows. They were also filled with little symbols, impossible to see if you didn’t get a close look. The shadows and patterns Rufus had put around the wings were deceptive too. From a distance, they only seemed to highlight the wings, but the closer you got, the more details you found. The pattern Rufus started on the arm and the chest came swirling down the spine, like the angel got a tattoo of its own. It was otherworldly, and it moved with Dean’s movements in a way that made Sam think Rufus might have put some real magic in there. 

But that was not what he was thinking about right then. When Dean was stuck in the tattoo chair, he had time to finish something up. 

“Dean, we need to talk.”

“What now, babe?”

Sam inhaled. He might not be “babed” for a while after this conversation.

“You being a total jerk to those ghosthunters got me thinking. You were on edge then, and you held it down and held it down until it burst, and they ended up with your shit all over them.”

Dean sighed. 

“The job gets to you sometimes, Sammy.”

“That’s just it. It wasn’t hunting that got to you, Dean, it was the job. And I told you that would happen.”

“I thought we were done with this conversation, Sam.”

Yep. “Babe” went to “Sam” in three sentences. It wouldn’t be that easy to brush Sam off this time, though.

“No. We never HAD that conversation when you got home. You just waved a spanking and a military uniform in front of me and I let you, but I never decided to let it go. Just thought we’d give it some time before I got back to it. But the ghosthunters, they made me believe time is shorter than I first thought.”

“What the hell is this about?”

Dean’s reaction was way too aggressive for Sam not to keep going. This was a clear sign Sam was getting to something Dean wanted him to stay away from, but no way he would do that.

“That military uniform, it made me wonder. Not like those, the real ones, grow on trees. Why would you take the time to get one? So I did some digging, and I found out this guy was killed inside a military compound. A place with a lot of security. The kind of thing that’s almost impossible to get done, and also the kind of thing that wouldn’t reach the public, not unless somebody wanted it to. Somebody with the kind of pull and money to hire a hitman. A good one. Like you. A hitman who’d want a big pay-off to stay off the jobs for a while. The timeframe, it matches almost perfectly.”

Dean reached out to pump up the volume, but Sam smacked his hand away. Dean looked like he wanted to kill someone, but he clenched his jaw and decided on the silent treatment.

“I get why it would take more than a week for you to get in there, and I don’t know how you did it, not even with all that intel you got on paper, untraceable, and burned, and yeah, I know about that. I guess this is the reason for your photographic memory-thing. Anyway, I get that. But the thing is, this guy, he was killed the day before you said you got to him. I mean, why lie about that? Unless you wanted a day on your own afterwards. Or a night.”

“Sam, I didn’t sleep with anybody else. I promised you, and I keep my promises.”

“Not what I was afraid of, Dean. I have other concerns. Concerns about why you would lie to me, why you would come back all on edge. You got messed-up, didn’t you? Made a little detour in the land of valium and roofies and whatever else you have these days. I’m not sure how many you popped after that, but if I’m wrong about that night, Dean, I want you to tell it to my face. I know you’re such an amazing fucking liar you might be able to lie to me, even to my face, for now, but I’ll get to the truth in the end. And I swear, Dean, if you do that, I won’t stick around. You don’t lie to me again. Ever.”

Dean shook his head, didn’t answer.

“So that’s it, then. I want you to promise me you won’t touch that fucking stuff. Maybe, I can’t make you quit the jobs. But I won’t let them do to you what John never could, break you to little pieces. This is **his** plan for you, Dean. The jobs, the drugs, you told me yourself. He started you on that. Promise me, and promise me **now**.”

Dean’s voice was low, but it wasn't the steely, scary one. It was a broken, sad one, because Dean knew Sam wasn’t messing around. He had some steel of his own.

“I can’t do that, Sammy. I will never promise you something I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep.”

“You don’t need them, Dean.”

“Forever is a long time, Sammy. Just can’t do forever. Hunting is a demanding job, and sometimes, you need a little bit of extra punch. I can handle it, Sammy.”

“Yet, you don’t end that sentence with, let’s say, ‘I promise you that much’ because you know you can’t promise me that either. Deep down, you know it.” Sam takes a deep breath. The air in the car is heavy. “Fine. Final offer. This is what we’re gonna do. Next time you go, you take me with and you let me sort you out afterwards. Do it our way, not John’s way.” 

Dean turned to him briefly, met his eyes and opened his mouth, but Sam wasn’t finished.

“And yeah, I know you don’t want me around that, and you don’t want me to see you like that, and you don’t want me to carry that for you. But you know what, Dean? What **I** don’t want is you lying to me. What **I** don’t want is my big brother too out of it to defend himself if something evil shows up. And, what **I** don’t want is what we have, you and me, to go to hell, just like everything else have done in my life, because you are too damn stubborn and selfish to listen to me for once. I’ve had enough. The ball is in your court.”

Dean looked like he was about to cry, which he was. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained and raw with feelings.

“Fine. Okay, Sammy. I won’t lie to you and I’ll take you with me. Just don’t expect to like everything. I wanted to give you the good stuff. You deserve the good stuff.”

“What I deserve is the fucking truth and all of you. Not just the edited version. You let me take care of you once in a while. I love you, for fuck’s sake, Dean. Not gonna change because John fucked you up when you were a kid.” 

Sam moved closer, held his brother’s hand. It trembled lightly, and one day ago, Dean would never have let him know that. Now, he did. And that was enough for Sam to know that the promise would be kept.


	18. Avenging angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean go to discuss what has happened with Jody and friends, and Dean tries new ways to drive his brother crazy.
> 
> Announcements: 
> 
> If my writing improves from here on out, it's thanks to WithintheDark, who is my new and much appreciated beta reader. Very happy about this!

“Hey, Jodes” Dean said and gave her a hug, while Sam got out of the Impala. They had just arrived at the house that always felt safe, warm and welcoming. 

She smiled and hugged him back, happy to see Dean safe and sound. 

“Hey, kiddo. You been good?” she said. 

“Always” Dean smiled at her, charming as ever. That didn’t work too well on Jody, though.

“Has he?” she asked Sam, who could tell she wanted an honest answer. She’d rather get the ugly truth than a beautiful lie any day. Especially when it came to the man she thought of as family, as a son. 

“He will be” Sam answered.

“Will be?” Jody said with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Nevermind, Jody” Dean said, giving his brother the evil eye.

“Oh, I mind, kid.”

“I’ve got it, Jody” Sam promised, and Jody gave him a good, long look. Then she turned to Dean, gave him that same look, the one she had used in her former career, the one responsible for an award or two. 

“I believe you have grown, Sam Winchester. Never seen anyone get to that idiotic brother of yours like you. Good to see he finally listens to someone.” 

She gave Sam one of those long, warm hugs too. These days, she was as happy to see him alive and well as she was Dean. Sam had become part of the family, and that was a big thing for him. He had lived at too many places where nobody liked or cared for him over the last few years, so many he had forgotten what it felt like to be truly welcomed. Dean might lie as easily as he smiled, but Sam never would. Not to Jody. 

“Could we get inside? I’m hungry” Dean said.

Jody laughed, ruffled Dean’s hair. Sam didn’t think his brother would let anyone else do that. Dean might not feel the need to be totally honest, but he did feel something very special for Jody and always would. 

“Even if he’d like to pretend he doesn’t. Not fooling me, kiddo” Jody snickered and got the boys inside, to the smell of a home-cooked meal they were about to have. That was a luxury for the Winchesters. 

After dinner, they sat down to discuss all that had been going on. The little flock of orphaned children left for their rooms, but Jody invited Pamela to stay. Claire insisted she and Charlie would, too. 

“Pamela, I’d like to know why you told me to listen to Rufus, because he had some damn interesting theories” Dean stated. He wasn’t interested in any more half-truths. 

“I knew you should, Dean, but I didn’t know why. I still don’t. I just know he will help you. And so will Charlie.”

“She already has” Dean said, not satisfied with that answer. 

“She will again. And I know you have to stay away from that stranger in a black beard. He has red eyes” Pamela continued.

“I think I would’ve noticed red eyes, honey” Dean said. 

“They’re not his street eyes, but believe me, he has red eyes.”

“That’s a new one. So we have blue eyes, green eyes, hazel eyes, which are _my_ favorite, black eyes, Yellow-eyes and now red eyes.” 

“I prefer green, myself” Sam said, putting his hand on top of Dean’s, resting on his thigh. 

“Naaaaw” Charlie said. “You are so cute, you could be Hello Kitty’s best friends.” 

Dean gave her a look. Then he filled them all in on what had happened since last time they saw each other. 

“I’d like to see that tattoo” Charlie said. 

“Oh, I’d like that too. And don’t be shy” Pamela joked, flirtatious as ever. Sam waited for the sting, but it never came. He was fine with this now, knowing it wouldn’t get her anywhere. At least not unless he told Dean to go play. He relished the moment, knowing Dean was his and his only, while his brother rolled his eyes at the tattoo suggestion.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s see it. Seems like it’s a part of the story” Jody said.

Dean sighed but stood up and lost the t-shirt. As always, the sight of half-naked Dean mesmerized Sam. His brother was so goddamn hot. Dean turned around slowly, let them see what Rufus had done to his body. 

The tattoos were hiding some of Dean’s battle scars. Sam had gotten the offer to hide his own, but he wasn’t interested. Not for now, at least. They were there to remind him of the hardship he’d been through and how grateful he should be for the new life he’d been given. To do the best of it. 

“That is one hell of craftsmanship” Jody said, inspecting the symbols. 

“It’s beautiful” Charlie said. “Totally awesome.” 

“Avenging angel, dark in the night” Pamela said, like she was only half awake. “Striking down hard, black deadly light.”

They all turned to her. 

“What do you mean, Pamela?” Jody asked. “Avenging angel, what’s that?”

Pamela shook her head, clearing the fog from her eyes. “I don’t know. It just came to me.” She seemed to be as confused about what she’d said as the others.

“Now I’m inspiring bad poetry” Dean sighed. “That’s not helpful at all, Pamela. In fact, that is disturbing.” 

Sam leaned in, put his head on Dean’s shoulder. He didn’t even think about it, he just felt that his brother needed him close. That was something John hadn’t cared about since shortly after Mary had died. His eldest had to live without comfort and affection for so long he barely showed any signs when he needed it. Didn’t even understand he needed it, since he was so used to push that need down. But Sam understood.

“Still, I’m sure it means something, handsome. Something except that tattoo is hot, hot, hot” Pamela said, but it didn’t sound like she was all there. It was clear, that “bad poetry” had taken a toll on her, and she excused herself soon after that to go lie down. The others talked a bit longer about what had happened since last time, but it was too much unknown territory to get anywhere. 

“We need a break, clear our heads” Dean said. “Let this be for a while. How about you tell us about the new fancy wing this house is getting before we go to bed, Jody?”

“I figured with both Claire and Charlie vouching to stay and help me out for a while, I could take more kids in, do some more good. Love my girls for it” Jody said and squeezed their hands. Claire rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, which was Claire-speak for ‘love you too, Jody’. 

Charlie smiled. “You are my best kidnapper ever. I like it here, Jody. I’m happy to help.”

“Yeah, I know Charlie is working hard at projects in this house” Dean said, smiling devilishly. 

Charlie smiled and crinkled her nose at him, so cute _she_ should be the friend of Hello Kitty’s or whatever. Sam loved her for it, making his brother forget the dark stuff for a little while. She was, just like he first had thought, going to be like a little sister to them. 

“Oh, I’m _not_ getting into that one “ Jody said, making a grimace to underline that statement.

“I wouldn’t, Jodes” Dean laughed. “Can we help with the house while we’re here?”

“Some of the hunters are helping out, but these new rooms, however spartan, are costing me a fortune nonetheless. I’m underfunded, so that’s a problem. Not end-of-the-world stuff, but still. Other than that, I think we’re fine. I do have a list for you, of other fun things to take care of around here, as always.”

“Me and Sammy, we’re flush right now. We’ll contribute” Dean said, without thinking about it. This was why Dean was loved and John was hated; the warm heart Jody had been a part of saving made sure he always did what he could to help. John Winchester only cared about one thing, revenge. His child, raised into that, refused to follow in his footsteps and was incredibly loyal. If he could help his friends, he would. 

Sam could see Jody’s conflicted feelings a mile away. She swallowed, closed her eyes and shook her head just a little. She might have helped Dean to become a better person, but she hadn’t been able to stop his father from making him live like no child should until it became a habit, became Dean's "normal". Still, she had to think about the greater good here. 

“And I’ll be grateful forever, kiddo, I just wish I didn’t know where the cash came from.”

“Then don’t think about it” Dean said, a little bit annoyed with the answer. 

Jody sighed. “You know, you’re right. I can’t have the cake and eat it. I’ll take the cash, kid. But I hope, someday, you’ll stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Claire asked. 

“Not your business, Claire, honey” Jody told her. 

Claire bit down on her answer but she wasn’t pleased to be kept out of it (or anything else, ever). Charlie gave Dean a thoughtful look, and then she yawned and asked Claire to go watch a movie before falling asleep. Claire gave Jody a last irritated glare and went upstairs. Jody wished she could be happy about the money that would help her greatly, but she couldn’t. Dean meant a lot more to her than money for a hundred houses. Even if she tried, she couldn’t hide the fact that the reminder of what Dean did to make that kind of money made her sad. The night didn’t end as good as Sam had thought it would, and he got Dean to go downstairs with him. Better they start fresh tomorrow.

* * *

“Feels like we’re sleeping on a meadow” Dean said, sniffing the sheets.

“Yeah. A real bed, with fresh sheets. I’m going to sleep the fuck out of it” Sam said, making himself comfortable.

“You tired?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Too bad” Dean said and closed his eyes, holding Sam, who was cuddling up to him with a happy smile.

“…Dean?”

“Yes, babe?”

“What did you mean by that?”

“Exactly what you think.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You know I do.”

“Stop teasing!” Sam said, suddenly all awake. “Now I can’t go to sleep.”

Dean laughed, very self-satisfied. 

“Jerk” Sam said.

“Bitch” Dean answered. “You asked. I was going to sleep. Now you want to blame this on me?”

“I so do. You did this on purpose, just to fuck with me.”

“Babe, I didn’t want to fuck _with_ you, I just wanted to fuck you. But if you’re too tired…”

“Bite me.”

“Oh, you’d love _that_ , wouldn’t you?”

Sam swallowed, knowing he was not going to win here.

“Yes, I would. Please?”

“Oh, no, you do not get what you want after bitching like that.”

“This is not fair.”

“Life is not fair, babe.”

“Please, Sir?”

“See, now, you _know_ this is where you’ll end up. Why making things so difficult, Sammy? Let’s get a good look at you. Those fancy covers are coming off, babe.”

Sam was sleeping in a t-shirt and boxers, not much to hide his beginning erection. 

“I like watching you, Sammy. You are beautiful. And I intend to do just that. Here” Dean said, giving Sam the lube. “You make yourself ready for me tonight, babe. I am not doing any work for slutty little bitches.” 

“You want me to…?” 

“Yeah, you take those clothes off, and you show me how much you like a finger in your ass, even if it’s your own. No touching your dick, though, Sammy, I want to see how hard you get just by those fingers.” 

Sam felt very self-conscious, and he knew he was blushing. Dean, laying there in the soft light from the lamps on the bedside tables, watching him as he was about to touch himself in such an intimate way, it was embarrassing, and that made him reach a full erection. He got lube on his fingers, and he brought a hesitant hand down where Dean had ordered it.

At first, Sam couldn’t concentrate, but soon, the pleasure made him hesitate less, make himself enjoy it more. Dean was watching him.

“Yeah, you always loved being fingerfucked, Sammy, such a little ass-slut. You keep that up, you gonna come just from your own fingers, aren’t you?” Dean said, with a raw voice. That voice, and the way Dean kept talking dirty to him, made him do the little sounds his brother loved to hear. Sam was very, very responsive to dirty talk and Dean loved it. 

Dean was stroking himself, watching Sam getting more shameless by the second, adjusting to get better reach, now that Dean took away all other options. 

“Dean, please, fuck me. Please, I’m ready for you now, please” he begged. 

“You think that’s what you gonna get? I might just finish myself off and let you _sleep_ it off, not getting as much as one touch, from me _or_ you.”

“No, please, Sir, I can’t sleep now! Please, I’ll be good, please” Sam moaned.

“Shhhh, babe, Jodes doesn’t need to hear you.”

“I’ll be quiet, I’ll be whatever the fuck you want, just please Sir” Sam pushed out in whispers.

“Oh, you can be quiet? Hmm, it would be a waste on a very well-prepared ass not to fuck you good and hard” Dean said, still teasing. 

Sam had no idea what he was saying anymore, begging, ashamed of how much of a hot mess he was without as much a touch from Dean. That, of course, made him even more of a hot mess. Dean knew how to play every kink Sam had, push all his buttons. One of his own was watching what he was doing to Sam, so that played out perfectly.

And of course, Sam had not been bad enough to be denied the good, hard fuck Dean was teasing him with. Although, after watching Sam, Dean would have fucked him stupid whatever he had done before. The fact he once told Sam not with anyone else in the house? He kind of forgot that.


	19. Heavenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new arrival could be exactly what the Winchesters need... if he's to be trusted. 
> 
> (New tags- they'll keep coming)

There was always this little moment, right when Sam started to wake up, when he didn’t know where he was. Usually, it was Dean's strong arms wrapped around him that reminded him, chasing away the anxiety before it had time to grow. The one that had always bloomed into a nagging hole in his stomach, ever since he could remember. Now, it shrunk back into nothing as he collected his brothers hand to kiss it softly. When he got the middle finger in his mouth, licking at it, Dean moved, kissing his shoulder. 

“Sammy, you'll have to stop that or it'll be my dick in your mouth very soon” Dean murmured.

“Oh, I know you'd like that” Sam teased. “But we oughta go running, right?”

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, “you are very right about that, sweetness.” And with those words, he gently broke loose from Sam and got up. “You coming?”

Running had never been Dean’s favorite thing, but it turned out, Sam loved it. Especially around Jody’s home, where there were trees and grass and quiet. It gave him peace of mind. 

After the morning work-out, they took a shower together. The hot water and intimate caresses of gifted fingers made Sam feel relaxed and loved. He climbed the stairs with a smile on his face after getting dressed. 

“Morning, Jodes, morning Charlie” Sam said as he entered the kitched. For the moment, they were the only ones up, the other inhabitants of the house still in their rooms, slow to rise. “That coffee smells heavenly.”

“If Rufus is to be trusted, that word does not mean anything good” Dean said, giving Sam’s ass a squeeze when he moved to get a cup of his own. “Morning, Charlie. Sleep well, kid?”

“Little too well” Charlie answered, “how ‘bout you?”

“Can’t complain” Dean said, winked at her. It was obvious those two were up to something, but what, Sam didn’t know. He could ask his brother, but didn’t want to ruin the surprise for himself. It was nice to know there were some fun and good things he didn’t know everything about, too, not just ominous, weird, scary things.

Claire entered the kitchen, wild morning hair and barely awake. She reached for the coffee and sat down with a little thud, almost almost spilling the hot drink. Claire was not a morning person. And she definitely didn't try to hide that fact. 

“We’ll have a new arrival today, Garth, girls. He’s a goofy one” Jody announced. “You help him settle in, Claire?”

“Sure, Jody. I’m glad you trust me” Claire muttered, obviously not over the fact Jody didn’t want to share information the night before. 

“I sent the word out yesterday, Dean. We’ll hear back from my contacts soon” Jody said, ignoring the gibe. She had a lot of connections, doing the work she did, and having heard the urgency in her voice, all promised to try and find some information and get back to her. Jody had a lot of chips to cash in within the hunter community. 

“Well, you can hear back from me right now, Jody” Charlie said, lighthearted as ever. “Demon chatter radio next to you, you know.”

“What you got, Charlie?” Dean asked, interest peaked.

“Set some new nets yesterday and I think I got some news for you. This Yellow-eyes of yours, I think he’s taken off the board” she said, like she was talking about something that had happened in those computer games she was going on about way too often if you asked Sam. That the skinny redhead with nerdy t-shirts and the innocent eyes could be such a threat to demons was hard to grasp.

“Dead?” Sam asked. 

“Don’t know, but this new player has taken over. Crowley. I think that’s your Red-eyes, Dean.”

“So Red-eyes got rid of Yellow-eyes and now he wants me to fall in line and complete the traffic light?” Dean said, rubbing his face. 

“Basically, yes. For what, I don’t even think Crowley knows. I think both sides just want you in case the other side could use you” Charlie said and touched Dean’s shoulder in a sisterly comforting gesture.

“Awesome. I’m the thousand-dollar chip and no one really knows how to cash me in” Dean mumbled, giving Charlie’s hand a little grateful squeeze.

“Yeah, I think nobody knows what they’re doing, actually. It’s like they had an arms race and we took their biggest toys away, and now they’re all confused and sulking.”

“That should buy us some time, then” Dean said, imagining the horrifying evil demons sitting around “sulking”, which was kind of funny. “Let’s hope Rufus got these pretty pictures right and hid me from them. And Sammy too, he got some little secrets of Rufus of his own.” Then his face lit up in a big grin. “You know this means that we fucked up the plans for world domination for the demons AND the angels. That is the most freaking awesome thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re not wrong” Charlie said, “and you’re welcome.”

Dean pulled her in for a rough hug and a kiss on the head. “Thanks, kiddo. You are awesome.”

“You like that word” Charlie said, hugging him back.

“Yeah, he really does” Sam snickered. 

“So, what’s next?” Claire asked, impatient as ever. Mornings really didn’t agree with her. 

"We need more information." Dean said decisively. "And more help. Demons we know. We may not know what they are up to just yet...but we know how to handle them. Angels we don't know. We need to get to know those fuckers. So...we get the word out to the community. We need all of the information and help we can find for whatever's brewing. All hands on deck. Sooner rather than later."

Sam watched his brother thoughtfully. Dean was a loyal friend and a trusted hunter, but being a team player had never been his forte. Most hunters were like that. Yet, he seemed confident the hunter community would back his play.

“I might be of service there” a man in a dirty trenchcoat said. A man who had NOT been there a second ago. His hair was all messy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in about a year. He had a deep scar on his left side of the face, running from the forehead all the way down to the chin, and his white shirt was all bloody. If Sam had met him on the street, he might have believed the guy was homeless. 

Even hunters almost fall of their chairs when someone suddenly appears in their kitchen. Dean, with his painfully honed reflexes, had a gun on the stranger so fast none of the others had time to see where it came from. The stranger’s intense sky blue eyes, so open and sad, wasn’t enough to earn him any trust at all. 

“That won’t hurt me, Dean. First lesson about us.”

Dean didn’t move, his face all steel and threats. 

“You are an angel?”

“I am. Or used to be. I’m defective.”

“In my book, that’s probably good” Sam said, wishing he had brought a gun as well, even if it might not work. He made a mental note to always keep one handy from now on. Sam hadn’t been raised a hunter, but he was a fast learner, and it wouldn’t be the first time he mimicked Dean’s habits without being told. He couldn’t imagine any other life anymore, and Dean’s strive for perfection didn’t seem to be purely coerced, but a family trait. 

“Sam, get behind me” Dean barked, fiercely protective. 

“No need, Dean. If I wanted any of you dead, you would be by now” the angel said, sighing. 

“Then, what are you doing here?” Dean said, eyeing the stranger with suspicion.

“I’m sadly short of allies and I’m very tired of running” the angel said. He certainly looked the part. 

Dean was not convinced. Being served a friendly angel right when they needed information about his kind was way too good to be true. Nothing ever came that easy. Still, if the creature really was an angel, it could be an opportunity even if it was a trap, and they really needed to know more and fast.

“If you are an angel you have the entire God Squad hanging upstairs. That not allies enough for you?” he asked as he got between Sam and the angel. Maybe it wouldn’t help, but he would sure as hell give everything he got to keep Sam safe.

“No, because I disobeyed. I found out the plan about the Apocalypse years ago, and I thought Heaven would never support a plan like that if it came out. Turns out, Heaven did” the angel said calmly. 

“So they threw you out” Sam said.

“No, I ran. They would’ve killed me for what I had done.”

“For you speaking up against a plan?”

“Heaven is not very forgiving, Sam.”

Both Winchesters were trying to figure the weird stranger out. Sam was ready to believe he was an angel, but he was as suspicious of the motives behind showing up like that as Dean was. 

Claire was pale, trembled, stared at the angel. “You…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

The angel tilted his head, looked confused, or more curious than 

“Little girl, why are you looking at me like that?”

The others turned to Claire, wondering what this was about. Jody put her hand on top of Claire’s, tried to get her attention, but the blonde barely noticed. 

“You are my father” Claire breathed.

“Oh. If you are referring to James Novak, no I’m not. He was dying, and he let me in. I needed a vessel, he had nothing to lose. I’m sorry about your father” the angel said, not showing much emotion in his dark, raspy and almost monotone voice. “He’s a very devout and good man.”

“I guess at least I know why they never found his body” Claire said, voice flat as the angel’s, in the shock caused by his appearance. Sam put his arm around her shoulders, not caring Dean couldn’t remain his human shield when he moved closer to Claire. He wanted her to know he was there to support her, however he could. Sam didn’t know much about angel possession, and he wondered whether James Novak was still in there, aware of what happened to his body, like people possessed by demons could be. That, he had learnt from his hunter studies 101. 

Jody and Charlie also moved closer to Claire, unable to understand fully how it would feel meeting your dead dad’s walking corpse, inhabited by something else. Jody whispered something in Charlie’s ear. Charlie nodded and, watching the angel, backed out of the kitchen. Then she darted up the stairs, to keep the other kids from coming down for breakfast.

“Okay, flying monkey, what should we call you then?” Dean asked, still in fighting stance. 

“Castiel. I’m Castiel. Heaven’s most wanted, so if you want nothing to do with me, I will understand.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “If that’s true, Castiel, that is the one thing that would make me consider trusting you.” 

Castiel sat down, looking like a sad puppy. For an angel, he wasn’t very intimidating. It was somehow a disappointment. Sam had envisioned angels to be majestic, larger than life, and this guy, he was mostly sad and pathetic. 

“I’ll earn your trust, Dean. I’m exhausted. I’m a soldier, not a leader, and I believe you will be one. I’ll follow your orders. If I die, I die.” 

“Around here, Castiel, we don’t do doom and gloom. Chin up. If you stay, you fight.”

“I’ll fight.”

Dean inspected the timeworn angel and shook his head. To an outsider, he might look relaxed, but to Sam and Jody, there was no doubt he still was on high alert. When he spoke, his tone of voice made clear that the angel was in no way among allies. He was a means to an end at best.

“Let’s hope you got more juice than what it looks like.”


	20. Maybe good things do happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam and Jody try to find out what Castiel really is.
> 
> \---
> 
> I am so very happy to have WithintheDark as my beta reader. Thanks for all helpful suggestions and sorting out some of my Swenglish :) 
> 
> \---

It didn't take long to convince Dean Winchester that Castiel had a lot more juice than his appearance would suggest. He, Sam, and Jody had brought Castiel outside to put him through some tests. The angel stoically demonstrated how he was impervious to harm and the standard monster tests the hunters relied upon. They took turns testing methods, and Castiel patiently withstood them shooting, stabbing, burning, and slicing at him, but when Jody threw holy water in his face he stared at her with something that might be irritation.

“I am an angel, Jody. You should know holy water won’t hurt me.”

Jody shrugged. “You say you are. And you also said Heaven hates your guts. Who knows?”

Dean came at him from behind, but now Castiel had had enough. He disappeared and popped up right next to Sam, making Dean almost trip and fall when his intended target vanished into thin air. Sam jumped and almost tried to hit the creature himself. His reflexes had become a lot better since he decided to become a hunter. Instead of attacking, Sam backed up a few steps. He wasn’t really scared of Castiel; if he wanted any of them dead, he could have made that happen, just like he said. Still, Sam didn’t want to get too close. And, he was certain Dean didn’t want Castiel too close to his little brother, either. 

“Can we stop this now? We are wasting time” the angel said with a sigh.

“Fine” Dean grumbled. “I have some questions. Tell me how you found us. I was told I’m hidden from angels.”

“You are” Castiel said, monotone as ever. “Angels don’t understand humans. I’ve been… I mean I was… stationed at Earth for so long, I think I’m infected with humanity.”

“Oh, so we’re a disease now” Jody said, crossing her arms. Castiel ignored her and continued.

“I didn’t look for you like the angels would. I waited for you to come to your friends. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time now.”

“What the hell, you’ve been STALKING me?” Dean snarled. 

Castiel gave him a confused look. It was clear he didn’t understand the reaction. Sam, in turn, was wondering how it was possible not to understand, if Castiel’s claim to have been close to humans for so long he was “infected” was true. The creature, angel or not, was an enigma. Sam squinted at him, looking for something he didn’t really know what it was, a clue undetected so far. Dean, however annoyed he seemed to be, sure as hell was doing the same thing. _“Always observe everything, Sammy”_ he’d told Sam, _“you don’t always know which details are important.”_

“Of course, I have been following you. I told you, I needed to find a leader and you were the best one I could find” Castiel said with a hint of cluelessness in his deep voice.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and reign in his annoyance. Deciding to leave the stalker issue behind for the moment, he took a deep breath and spoke up again. 

“Okay. Maybe you are an angel, maybe not. You are nothing I’ve ever heard of.”

Sam looked at his brother curiously. He was ready to believe Castiel was an angel, or at least, more than Dean was. He couldn’t really understand what the big difference between vampires, witches and angels was. Except, at least this one angel wanted to help them instead of trying to kill them. If he wasn’t lying through his teeth.

“Dean, with everything you’ve seen, why would it be so impossible for angels to exist?”

The older Winchester sighed wearily.

“I guess it’s easier to believe now that angels turned out to be assholes just like every other supernatural thing we hunt.”

Castiel didn’t answer. He just waited, and Sam could see him being a soldier, not a leader. He might be immortal, but when Sam looked at him, he seemed so lost. Sam knew that feeling, how it was to lose your family and have no idea where to turn because nobody else wants you. He almost wanted to comfort the angel. Almost. 

Jody still had her arms crossed and Sam thought she seemed even more suspicious than Dean. Maybe because Jody was as protective of her “kids” as Dean was of his little brother. The creature taking the body of Claire’s father couldn’t help his case with her. Sam also thought Jody didn’t like the idea of Castiel following Dean around any more than his brother did. He knew Jody sometimes thought of Dean like the little lost boy she had let into her heart once, the one she wished she could save a bit more than she already had. 

“I don’t like the fact that these unkillable wingboys can pop in any time they like” Jody said with an unfriendly grimace.

Castiel turned to her, face almost blank. Either he had a very limited range of emotions or he hid them very well.

“I could ward your house against angels. But that means I can’t get in, either.”

Jody cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t see Claire having a problem with that. _I_ don’t have a problem with that. You, Dean?”

“Nah. I’d go as far as to say that’s a good first order, Castiel. If you don’t count my kind request to let us try and kill you six ways from Sunday as an order.”

Castiel bowed his head. “I’ll do that, then. Right now?”

Sam could see his brother had mixed feelings about this. Satisfaction, suspicion, slight surprise the angel actually seemed ready to follow orders. A pet angel could be very useful, but if Castiel decided to bite, they had no way to put him down, and Dean was very well aware of that. Sam felt the tension that knowledge caused building up inside his brother.

“I have a few more questions first” Dean said. “I’d like to know how to kill you halos. There’s always a way. And I’d also like to know how many more of you have descended from heaven to be a pain in our asses.”

“The only thing that can kill an angel is an angel blade. And, none at the moment.”

“You got any of these angel blades to share?” Dean said. If this was some sort of trap, he was going to try and get as much out of it as possible, and the angel blade thing _could_ be true.

“I only have my own with me. And I really need that, Dean. They will try to kill me again.”

The angel seemed to be almost childishly honest, and if he was, he was also ready to give up his only weapon if ordered to do so. Even if it left him unable to defend himself. Angels certainly seemed wired to follow orders. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can you get some? And what else can we humans do, except ward houses and kill you with special blades?”

Castiel looked like he was thinking hard. It was obvious he had a hard time betraying his own kind, but Dean was his superior now, and he would answer the question as best he could.

“You can trap an angel with burning holy oil. There’s this symbol you can draw that will send all angels close to you away, but you have to use your own blood to make it. And if it’s your wish, I could try and find as many angel blades as there are on earth. I know some angels have been lost over the last few thousand years. I knew those angels and where they were before we lost them. I could try and find their blades.”

It was mind-boggling to consider the fact that this weird creature had lived for thousands of years. Sam couldn’t believe it. He pushed those thoughts away, got back to more pressing matters and asked a question of his own.

“You say there are no other angels around right now. Why?”

Castiel turned those blue eyes to him, eyes that reminded more of a four-year-old than a four-thousand-year-old. Either he was very, very naïve for such a powerful creature, or he was among the best liars in the world, Sam thought. 

“Angels don’t like Earth. It’s uncomfortable. When they couldn’t catch me, they returned to Heaven for now.”

“Earth is un… Nevermind.” Dean said. “You angelproof the house, show us the symbol and then go get as much as you can of the angel-trap-oil and the shiny toys. If I need you before you’re done, how do I contact you? You have a cellphone?”

It seemed very weird, calling an angel on the phone, but weird was a feeling they were all getting used to.

“Just pray for me. Be sure you pray to me specifically or others might hear you” the angel said and walked towards the house to cross the first task he had been given off the list. Jody followed him to go get paper and learn how to blast angels away. If everything Castiel had told them was the truth then they had been handed one hell of a break. 

Sam watched them walk away, what looked like a very ordinary man in a trenchcoat, and the woman he’d come to think of as family. If Castiel had some sort of hidden agenda Sam couldn’t figure out what it could be. He decided that for the moment, he would hope that good things do happen. Like an angel popping out of nowhere to help them. 

Dean Winchester had never prayed in his entire life, and had never planned to. If he had, the idea of an angel showing up would have been too ridiculous to even consider. On the other hand, he could never have imagined a lot of the things that had happened lately. As he felt Sam intertwining their fingers, he remembered not all of them were bad. One of them was the best thing that had ever, and would ever, happen to him.


	21. Now sleep in it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes a decision that upsets Sam and an enemy comes back to mock and leave a disturbing message.
> 
> **I just want to tell all of you** , who have read, left kudos and comments, that it means so much to me. So so much. And you guys who have decided to subscribe to the story, you make me want to write more and better. Thanks to my incredible beta reader, who is called zombieutopia these days, I think I'm getting somewhere :) It's still a bit frustrating, sometimes, writing in my second language, but you guys make me wanna try harder. And the boys do want their story to be told. 
> 
> <3 to y'all.

After Castiel left, there wasn’t much to do, except wait for more info. When Dean found what was probably a demon problem, the brothers were out the door almost before Jody had the time to say goodbye. Dean’s hunting itch was either genetic or contagious. 

The demon got to be Sam’s first exorcism. It went just fine. Sam was about to turn eighteen in a month, which made him think about how much had changed. He had thought about turning eighteen as a date when the group home placements would be over. Now, his life was about things to come. He felt more and more like a full-fledged hunter with every passing case. After dropping the possessed man off at the hospital, miraculously alive, Sam kissed Dean hungrily. The hunt had given him such an adrenaline rush, he needed an outlet, and Dean was more than happy to provide. 

When Sam woke up the next morning, Dean was already getting dressed. Sam made a little unhappy sound, missing his morning cuddle. One look told him something besides that was off, probably something that caused Dean not to wake him up like he usually did. Dean pretended it was nothing all through the morning run, the breakfast, the separate showers. It wasn’t until they got in the car that Sam got to know the reason why he'd had a bad feeling all morning.

“Sammy, I need to talk to you about something” Dean said, eyes on the road.

“And I won’t like it” Sam stated.

“No. You won’t. Sammy, I gave Jody a considerable chunk of our money, and I don’t know that much about wars, but I know they are expensive as fuck.”

No, Sam definitely didn’t like where this was going. Not at all.

“What, you think hunters want to get paid to help?” he said with a slight shrill in his voice.

“No, they won’t. But I don’t want money to be the reason for us be held back if we catch a break” Dean said, trying to be reasonable. Not his strong suit.

“And money helps killing demons and angels how?”

Dean rubbed his face. He wasn’t used to having to justify his decisions. John wouldn’t have listened anyway, and Dean had never cared what anyone else thought. Maybe Jody, a few times. Until now. It was not fun.

“Babe, listen. I don’t know how or even if money will help. But. I’m not willing to bet some extra cash won’t matter. I’ve got this job from Ruby, and it’s a good one, Sammy. More money than I’ve ever been offered before.”

“Who’s Ruby?” Sam said, clearly not convinced and on edge with the entire situation.

“She’s my handler. Gets ten percent to take care of all negotiations for me. She’s the best in the game” Dean answered in a flat voice. He tried to be calm, not give Sam an excuse to go off. Keep this from escalating.

“Of course, she is.” Sam said, took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Okay, I know where this is going. I said I’d come, and I will. Who are we killing this time, Dean?”

“The owner of some company” Dean said, keeping his eyes stubbornly on the road, refusing to look at his brother. Hoping this wouldn’t turn into a big fight. He knew he wouldn’t budge, but he didn’t know how much it might hurt him, hurt them, to make this happen.

“And what did he do to deserve this?” Sam asked, that defiant tone of his voice that so rarely showed up these days. 

“Don’t know. Not my business.” 

“No, it’s not, because _saving_ people is.”

Sam knew he had agreed to this. Knew Dean never had promised to stop taking jobs. But now, when push came to shove, he was finding it difficult to accept.

“The kind of jobs I take, the target is never Mr Nice Guy. That doesn’t pay this well.” 

“The _target_?” Sam said, almost like he was interrogating his brother. His voice was aggressive and questioning.

“Yes. The target” Dean said, trying to keep his strategy to not engage, just answer the questions matter-of-fact.

“And how do you know that, if you don’t know anything about this person?” 

“Sam. You said you wanted in. This is it. If you can’t take it, you don’t have to. But you said no more lies, and this here is the truth. I’ve got a handler. I neutralize the target in accordance with the client’s wishes. I don’t ask questions, and I don’t leave evidence.” 

Dean spoke calmly, coldly. It was chilling, especially when Sam compared it to his own voice, filled with anger, fear and sadness. The more emotional he got, the colder his brother got And the worst part was that Dean was right, this had been their agreement. This wasn't just his brother; this was the hitman, the killer talking to him this way, and it scared Sam a little bit, seeing him transform into this distant, matter-of-fact, non-caring person. No charming smile. No smirking. No hint of the fierce hunter prepared to protect humanity or the loving brother, singing to him in bed. Sam could feel the change as it happened, and he didn’t like it, not a bit. But he had given his word.

“Fine. When do we leave?” Sam said wearily. Both brothers were men of their word, and Sam would stand by what he had said.

“In an hour” was the short and fast answer.

“You got this set up damn quick.”

“Usually do. Got the offer this morning. We’ll get to the dead drop first, get the info. And Sam, one thing before we go in – me taking you, that’s a risk. Ruby’s not happy about it. Clients don’t like more people involved than absolutely necessary. You need to understand you can’t be around for the trickier parts.”

“You told her?” Sam asked, not happy about the fact that this Ruby chick knew about him before he knew about her.

“Believe me, she would’ve found out, and you don’t want to be on her shitlist.”

Sam nodded. Being on the shitlist of a handler for elite hitmen probably was well past stupid. He gave Dean a long look. If this was who had shown up at the group home seven months ago, Sam wouldn’t have gone with him. He knew there would be no jokes, no “babe”, no touching, no emotions, not anything like that until this thing was over.

“You sure about this, little brother? Last chance. You do not have to do this.”

Sam took a deep breath and steeled himself. If he wanted to get Dean out, he had to dive in there with him. He wouldn’t let his brother carry this on his own anymore, push it down and push it down with whatever method he could find.

“Yes. I am sure. Let’s go.”

The car ride was not pleasant. Dean was driving even faster than usual, and his closed-off face was making Sam’s heart ache. Sam tried to bury himself in research, but it didn’t work. He could barely understand what he was reading, and by the end of one page, he had forgotten the beginning. 

Sam had to wait in the car while Dean got the file on the “target”. Somehow, it was more surreal watching his brother memorizing that stuff later at the motel than it had been watching him kill monsters the first time. When Dean was done, he gave the file a distrustful look. 

“What?” Sam asked.

“That kind of money for this kind of job? Something’s off, Sam. But I trust Ruby. This client must be stupid or something” Dean answered, clearly wondering what the catch was.

“You sure?”

“Ruby’s a bitch, but she knows what she’s doing. I’ll go do some re-con tonight, and if it all looks good, I’ll get it done tomorrow night. Would be nice to wrap this up quickly” Dean said, and Sam could almost see how he shook the doubts off, keeping his thoughts in neat boxes, only the one needed open. Sam started to wonder what exactly John had been doing in the navy, to know how to teach his son this. He would probably never know, since they had made sure John would spend the rest of his life in a little box of his own. 

Dean burned the file in the trash bin and then he closed the curtains. 

“Might as well learn something new, Sam. Come here.” 

Learning how to disassemble and reassemble a sniper gun had NOT been on the list of things Sam thought he’d get to do before turning eighteen. Watching Dean do it was equally impressive and scary, especially since Dean didn’t let go of his hitman persona entirely when he explained what Sam had to think about in a cold, calm, flat voice.

“Should find this on Youtube too if you forget something” Dean said (which was equally _practical_ and scary). “You show me tomorrow when I wake up.” 

And with that, he was out the door, leaving the Impala for a car he was about to steal on the way. It didn’t matter how much Dean loved Baby, she was not a good choice for re-con. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Sam woke up, Dean was asleep in his bed on the other side of the room. No king size bed when on a job. Sam sighed, wished Dean would look as innocent and young when he woke up as he did asleep, wanted to go kiss those freckles, curl up to his big brother. Instead, he went out to get coffee, barely noticing the sun and blue skies. There was no way around what was going to happen, and he knew it. He’d made his bed and now he’d have to lie in it. 

The diner was welcoming enough, so he stayed there, having a breakfast he ate almost mechanically. When the waitress scribbled down her number for him, Sam’s surprise was visible. It cancelled the auto-pilot mode.

“If you’re staying in town” she said, winking at him and giving him a good look of her walking away. 

This had not happened to _him_ before. His brother could probably have papered their room back at Jody’s with phone numbers if he’d kept them. But not him, not outside his old circles. Sam met his own eyes, reflected in the window. No dark rings, shiny hair, the angles of his face not too sharp anymore. His body, once so scrawny, was now athletic, arms bulging in a way that he knew was attractive. He just hadn’t realized the changes before now. Dean had told him he’d get there fast, and he’d been right. Sam, who’d barely been able to jog for fifteen minutes, would soon be able to challenge even Dean on shorter distances. The seven strenuous push-ups had multiplied. With all that had happened, he hadn’t noticed how much better he’d gotten. Or how his natural good looks had been enhanced as a by-product. He gave himself a little appreciative nod for what he’d accomplished.

Back at the motel, he spent an hour or two reading up on things and chatting with Charlie and Claire. Charlie was working on her own schemes to help with the “God Squad”, but so far, no results. She wasn’t about to give up, though. Sam smiled when he read her messages, envisioning her tapping away, smiling like she was sharing a funny meme with a friend, when she in fact was trying to program her computer to find clues how to stop a cosmic war. It made him feel a little better, temporarily forget the reason Dean was asleep and he wasn’t. At least until his big brother started to wake up.

“Sam? You mind getting me coffee?” Dean asked, blinking at the sunlight coming through the curtains. The innocent, open face was gone.

“Sure” Sam said, almost not wanting to look at his brother. He rushed out the door and was back within twenty minutes.

“So, how are we doing? You getting things done tonight?” Sam asked, trying to sound neutral as he handed Dean the triple red-eye.

“Yes. About that, Sam. When I get back, I won’t be… I am, well…” Dean didn’t know how to explain.

“Yeah. I know.”

“And no touching” Dean said, turning away from Sam.

“No touching? I’m pretty sure you used to get a lot of touching done afterwards” Sam said inquisitively. 

“Not with you, Sam. Not like that. Never like that with you.”

Sam nodded with a sad smile. He understood. The ones Dean had gone home with never knew, but they were barely humans to him. They had been a way of distracting himself from what he’d done. And he could never treat Sam like that. “Okay” Sam said, letting Dean know he understood. “And the drugs?”

Dean didn’t want to answer. He refused to meet Sam’s eyes.

“The truth, Dean. And the whole truth.”

“And nothing but?”

“Yes. Quit stalling.” Sam’s voice had gotten sharper. They were on negotiation territory now.

Dean sighed, wearily, losing the struggle to keep his thoughts void of emotion. He didn’t want to tell Sam any of this, not about the job, not about him on the job, but they had a deal. Sam had agreed to let him do things even if it went against every fiber he had. Dean had to do what he’d promised.

"Fine. I usually take something to give me an extra edge during the job and after it done, something to help me relax. Get things out of my system. I have those in my bag."

“This job, do you really need that edge?” Sam asked, knowing Dean had acknowledged this was a milk-run if any job of this kind could be.

Dean tried to ignore the question with a shrug, but Sam didn’t let him. 

“Fine, Sam. No. But, I swear, if you try to get anywhere near my whiskey you’re out of here” he finally growled.

“I won’t. But promise me one thing. When you’re done, you come straight back to me. No detours to try and sort things out on your own and pretend you didn’t.” Sam spoke with great determination, like he could get Dean where he wanted if he had punch enough in his words. Which he could.

“ **Okay** , I won’t” Dean said aggressively. Then he collected himself, got back into the cold persona. He couldn’t let himself be angry or frustrated, no matter how trapped he felt.

They both forgot Sam was supposed to prove he’d learned to handle the weapon Dean was now giving a last go-through. The connection, that special bond they always had had, it was in a way more broken now than it had been all those years they were apart Sam suddenly felt like the air had grown thin, making it hard for him to breathe.  


\--- --- --- --- --- 

When Dean was halfway back from the finished job, in a newly stolen car, the guy in the black beard and the expensive coat appeared in the seat next him. Luckily, Dean was an exceptional driver, or they would have ended up flying off the road. 

“Awful jumpy for a professional hitman” the guy commented mockingly.

“What do you want, Crowley? _Not_ in the mood to chat.”

Dean took a chance on the name, not his usual more careful self. His tone was aggressive, which made the demon chuckle. That, of course, did nothing to improve Dean’s mood. He was about one second away from stopping the car and trying to exorcise this guy. It would end up with the demon disappearing or with Dean finding it hard to breath before he had time to do the exorcism, which made it pointless. He knew that, so he kept driving.

“So, you know my name. Impressive” the demon said with a smile. “You are suspiciously hard to find these days. I had to hire you to find you. You cost me a pretty penny, Dean.”

Dean clenched his jaw. He was about to explode, swallowing hard several times.

“ **You** are the stupid client overpaying me?” he growled.

“Had to make sure you took the bait. That little one is making you soft, Dean.”

“Get to the point.”

“I’d like you to keep working for me. As you already know, the pay is good” the demon said with a big grin. To him, this seemed to be fun. 

“You _are_ stupid. Hell no!” 

“Hell is my domain, Squirrel. Not yours. Listen. Maybe my kind take a few of yours. But consider this: The angels want to screw the entire human race.” Crowley turned to Dean when he said that, drawing out the sentence to let his words sink in, highlighting just how bad the angels were for humans.  


“You’re saying the angels want to nuke us off the map?” Dean asked, a little less aggressive. He was wondering what Crowley’s angle was and the need for logical thinking made him calm down some. 

“Not exactly. They’d like to remove that pesky free will God granted you, or that’s what I hear. Now that their little celebrity death match won’t create the Earth they wished for, they will find another way to do it” Crowley answered, keeping a light tone that betrayed nothing of the seriousness of the conversation.

“They… what?” Now Dean was more questioning than he was threatening. 

“They want you to be mindless, stuck-up, incredibly boring drones, like… oh yeah, themselves. Think about this, Dean. I’m your best shot, no, I’m your _only_ shot at keeping all those little sins you love so much in your life. Like all the dirty things you do to your little brother in the dark. Don’t call me, I’ll call you” Crowley said and vanished, leaving a cell phone behind.

Dean hit the steering wheel, hard, several times. Bit down and kept going at a (for him) painfully slow speed. This was not the night to get pulled over.


	22. Come back to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers deal with the aftermath of the job. 
> 
> As always, I'm grateful to zombieutopia for betareading and making me a better writer.

Sam had been waiting, staring at the door, for a good thirty minutes when Dean got back. Not that Dean didn’t get there when his text had said he would, just that Sam couldn’t do much else, couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that he didn’t know what state Dean would be in when he returned or how hard it would be to help him become himself again. Or how hard it would be to persuade Dean to even let him try.

"Hi, Sam." Dean said. His voice was so weary that it hurt to hear. He looked worse than he had during his post-birthday party hangover. The green fire in his eyes had gone out.

“Hi, Dean” Sam said, giving Dean space.

Dean went straight to the whiskey bottle, didn’t even bother with a glass. The way he almost inhaled the amber-colored alcohol made Sam wonder how long Dean would be conscious. He was about to comment on that when Dean put the bottle down and swallowed. Sam watched him closely, looking for any signs. There were none, but still, he knew.

“Dean?”

“Mhm?” his brother answered. The tone of his voice was far from friendly.

“How many did you pop in the car?”

Dean stared at him. His eyes weren’t cold anymore, like they’d been when he left, they were aggressive like a dying animal caught in a trap but still trying to defend itself.

“How many?” Sam insisted.

“Said no uppers, did no uppers” Dean snarled.

Sam nodded with a tired and angry face, which he tried to hide. No point in starting something up right now. Dean had played him. He might never lie to Sam, but he’d had no problems finding loopholes when he needed them. It hurt, but he’d have to live with that, just like he had with the fact that Dean had taken the job in the first place.

“But you never said nothing afterwards” Sam sighed.

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he chugged down more whiskey. Sam didn’t really know what to say or do to get through to his brother. He got the feeling Dean tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

“You trying to break the record from start to unconscious?” Sam asked, trying to force Dean to communicate.

“Yes.”

The answer was short and aggressive. Dean really didn’t want to talk to him. Sam fell silent for what felt like forever, just sat there and watched his brother drink himself into oblivion. When Dean almost tipped the bottle over, putting it down, Sam decided to try again.

“This is what a job does to you?” he said, softly, trying to make Dean understand he didn’t want to fight, he just wanted to help. 

“Don’t, Sammy. Jus’ don’t. S’too much” Dean slurred, almost begged. Very uncharacteristic for him, and it made Sam tear up a little bit.

“Something else happened? In the car?”

Sam may have lost his demon blood, and with it the promise of special abilities, but when it came to Dean he would always have a sixth sense.

Dean finally met his eyes, even if he couldn’t quite focus anymore. “T’morrow.”

“Okay, Dean. Tomorrow. But you are telling me everything.”

Sam kept his calm, but he made it clear that he meant what he said. Tomorrow Dean would have to give him the truth. He wasn’t sure Dean would remember this conversation, though, since his brother was barely conscious. Two minutes later, Sam half-carried him to the bed, which was a lot easier now than when the two of them first reunited. Sam had grown a little bit taller, and he had a lot more muscle on him. 

When he’d gotten Dean into bed he remembered that he’d seen his brother like this once before, and back then he’d almost panicked, and he’d been very close to self-harm. Now, he waited for the anxiety to set in. It didn’t. He knew he could do this. Sam marveled over what had happened to him, how much he had changed. What he’d realized back at the café had been about his body, but Sam had grown strong in more than one way under the guidance of his big brother. Now Dean needed him to use his strength, and Sam wouldn’t let him down.

After getting his brother’s shoes off, Sam pushed his own bed next to Deans and climbed in. Dean had said no touching, but Sam decided that if Dean could use loopholes for his drugs, he could most definitely use a loophole for this. They were going to sleep in the same bed, close to each other, without touching. 

What had transpired after Dean came back hadn’t been a win, because Dean hadn’t tried, at all, to lean on him. He was allowed to be in the room, but he wasn’t allowed to help. Still, it was a step. And if Dean woke up, Sam was dead set on being right next to him, ready for anything.

Sometime during the morning, Dean turned over and spooned his brother, a lot less hostile asleep than he’d been awake. Sam thought he might get drunk from the whiskey stench, but he made himself comfortable in his big brother’s arms anyway, listening to him snore. Dean hadn’t put anything else in his body after returning, so Sam could live with the alcohol. He just wished he had an open window to get them some fresh air, but didn’t want to move. He wouldn’t abandon his brother even if Dean probably wouldn’t notice it in his current state. And in his brother’s arms, he fell asleep, because now he knew he would wake up if Dean did.

It was light out when Sam woke up, as always, a little disoriented. Reality came rushing back in when he felt how Dean pulled him even closer. That movement made Sam smile in the middle of all the misery, because he’d been scared Dean would do the exact opposite, pushing him away, just like he had before he passed out.

“Morning, Dean” Sam said, lovingly.

Dean kissed his brother’s shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and filled with emotion, the dark rasp so far from what he’d sounded like before he’d left to do the job that he seemed to be another person. Which he kind of was.

“Morning, Sammy. You’re still here.”

“I did not go through all that trouble to get here to bail, you know” Sam answered, equally emotional. Maybe Dean hadn’t let him in at all when he came back, but now, he did.

Sam reached for the water bottle he had put next to the bed the day before.

“Got Aspirin if you’d like it. Please say you do” he said.

Dean, no matter how unbreakable he might seem, all smirk and swagger, was very vulnerable right now. If he could get Dean to take Aspirin, maybe he wouldn’t take anything else. Sam was pretty sure that would be a standard move otherwise.

Dean sighed, kissed his neck and kept holding on to Sam like he was a lifeboat.

“Okay, sweetness. I’ll give that a try.”

Sam smiled, his hand on Dean’s hip. This morning, it was all about being close and nothing else.

“I can go get coffee if you like” he offered with a soft, warm voice.

Dean tensed up, and it took him a while to answer. Sam held his breath without noticing it. Would an offer to go get coffee make Dean push him away? What could be wrong with that?

“Don’t go. Not yet” he finally murmured, so low Sam could barely hear it.

Sam took a deep breath, and he understood what’d gone wrong. Dean had to ask for something, had to ask for help. Because he felt bad. Sam knew, felt, that for Dean, doing that was hard. Maybe even harder than sticking to Aspirin this morning. From the little Dean had told him about his childhood, Sam could understand why. John had done his best to cripple his son emotionally and in some ways, he’d succeeded. Those four words – _Don’t go. Not yet._ – was proof Sam had begun a healing process.

“I’ll be here as long as you want. Maybe we could open the window though?”

Sam was incredibly happy about Dean’s decision to try and lean on him, but he also felt slightly nauseous, like he had a second-hand hangover.

“That might be a good idea.”

“You sure nobody will come looking?” Sam asked, worried the police could be outside that window.

“Yes, babe. I’m sure. I sent them another way” Dean said, and the calm certainty in his voice was hard not to believe. No matter how hard it was for him to do, he was very good at the job.

Sam didn’t ask anything else, didn’t offer to get anything else, he just stayed in bed, comforting Dean with his presence, silently, for three hours. Or, almost three hours. Some of that time, Dean was hurling in the bathroom.

“Could go for that coffee, now. Maybe some breakfast to clog my veins up real good, too” Dean finally said.

“I’ll go get that. You stay in bed” Sam said, yawning, and gently got free from his brother’s embrace.

“Sounds good. Don’t be gone for too long” Dean said, jokingly, but they both knew that it was no joke.

“I’ll hurry, big brother. Love you” Sam said.

Dean didn’t answer, but Sam could see how deeply affected his brother was by those words, how much it meant to him. The look in Dean’s eyes was far more telling than any words could have been.

Sam got dressed and went to the door. Then he stopped and turned around.

“Dean? The drugs?”

“They’re in my bag by the door” Dean said, refused to look at Sam, like he was ashamed.

“And you’ll stay away from them?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Yeah, Sammy. I won’t touch them while you’re out.”

Sam smiled. “Good. I trust you. Now, this time, I mean _all_ of them.”

“I know” Dean said.

Sam would have preferred that Dean hadn’t ended the promise with “while you’re out”, which made it temporary, but this was still a good thing. He happily rushed off to get coffee and food.

When Sam returned to the motel, Dean was still in bed. The older Winchester looked like shit and then some, but the open window, hot coffee, and greasy food did help some. When Dean was done, he invited Sam to come back to bed and cuddle, with a gesture. Sam was considering another option.

“If you want to leave, I could drive. Jody taught me” Sam said, still on the chair by the window.

“First of all, we don’t have a fake driver’s license for you. And second, hell no, and third, never going to happen. Driving Jody’s car is not driving Baby, Sammy.”

“Then, when will you teach me?” Sam said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Kill me now” Dean groaned dramatically, turning around in bed. “I don’t want to hear it, babe. I’ll teach you how to pick a lock, make a bomb, win a knife fight. Not drive Baby.”

Sam shook his head, but felt a stupidly wide smile coming on at the sound of his Dean, his big brother, the one he loved. The one who sang to him, who would die protecting him in a second.

“There’s something very wrong with your relationship to that car, Dean. But, I don’t mind some more cuddling. Especially not if you take a shower. A long one.”

“That, I can do.”


	23. All here now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam needs something and Dean knows what. 
> 
> It took me a bit longer than planned to get this done, but the constant darkness up here in Sweden is tiring me out this time of year. Sorry! 
> 
> I worked real hard on this one (with the help of my amazing beta reader). I hope you will enjoy it!

Dean Winchester was not shaking. The water was a bit too cold, that was all. He was fine now.

_“I’d like you to keep working for me. As you already know, the pay is good.”_  


Dean swore at the memory, tried to keep it away, but the words kept ringing in his head, and there was nothing there to stop them from echoing. Nothing to soak them up, make them blurry.

_“keep working for me”_  


He wished there was, and he knew how to get it. He was itching for it, the sweet numbness, the lost hours put between him and what he’d done. The realization of how much he wanted (needed) that bounced around the edges of his mind, stirring up other thoughts that he liked even less. The word _addiction_ almost surfaced as Dean drove his fist straight into the ugly tiles of the motel shower.

Sam, of course, noticed his messed-up knuckles when he returned from the bathroom. He’d trained his little brother to pay attention to that kind of thing, after all. He could _feel_ Sam’s beautiful hazel eyes search for his, dreaded the look in them.

“Dean?” 

Dean sighed and clenched his jaw. He didn’t want this particular conversation to happen, because he didn’t know how to explain why his hand looked like it did.

“Would you please stay sober for me?” 

Sam’s voice broke his heart. He was the reason that voice sounded so sad, scared and hopeful at the same time. And at that exact moment, he couldn’t avoid the truth anymore. He’d once told Sam that the drugs were nothing to worry about, and he’d believed that was the truth. Now, when his thoughts kept drifting from Sam to how to chase Crowley out of his mind… now he knew. It hadn’t been true then, and it sure as hell wasn’t true now. 

“Okay, Sammy, I’m good for now” he heard himself say, knowing he shouldn’t have added the last two words. But he did, because he’d never make a promise to Sam that he didn’t know he was going to keep. 

“Good” Sam said, with great relief. 

Dean put jeans and a t-shirt on, got the bag and opened the door. 

“Sammy?” he said, with a little gesture. 

Sam followed him out, where Dean tossed the bag in the trunk of the car, locked her back up, and handed Sam the keys. Handed him the keys, because he wouldn’t break a promise, and he wouldn’t lie about how hard it was. There had been enough lies. 

Dean’s hands were trembling. He resisted to try and hide it. There had been plenty of pain in his life, and he’d never backed down before. Like hell he’d start now. 

Back inside, Sam curled up with him. Having his arms full of warm and loving Sammy was the only thing that kept him away from the trunk, the bag, what was inside the bag. He’d thought it would get better when the hangover passed. It didn’t. It got worse, without his usual remedy.

That night, Sam leaned hard on him. He’d let Dean soak up his body warmth and breathe through his hair, be there like no one ever had in Dean’s life, all day. Now he wanted answers. He kept pushing and prodding relentlessly until Dean was more exhausted than he’d ever been, felt like he’d been turned inside out. Total honesty did **not** come naturally to him.

Bits and pieces of the conversation kept repeating in Dean’s head as he was trying to sleep (which was impossible, exhausted or not).

_“Yeah, I killed a human being because a demon told me so, that’s what you want me to say?”_  


The tone of his voice had exposed the inner turmoil, spilling all over the kid he loved, had sworn to protect from that kind of darkness. From his darkness. Sam wasn’t even eighteen yet, he shouldn’t have to deal with this crap.

_“I want you to tell me the truth, Dean.”_  


Dean hadn’t wanted to tell him the truth, had wanted to spare Sam. But, his little brother being a kid or not, Dean had no right to make that choice for him. Not anymore, not with what they had become.

_“I want to know what you took in the car. What you’ve been taking. And how often.”_  


Dean knew how incredibly stupid it was driving high or mixing alcohol and benzodiazepines. He didn’t want to admit that was exactly what he’d done anyway. But when Dean Winchester gave his word, he stuck by it. No matter how bad he wanted out. No more lies. And he wouldn’t let Sam blame it on John. No more excuses.

It hurt like hell to let Sam know every little detail. But, it hurt like a dislocated shoulder did when it popped back into place, because afterwards, even if he felt like shit, it was easier to breathe. Because Sam was still there. Still loved him. Still craved to be close, as he fell asleep in Dean’s arms.

_“That little one is making you soft, Dean.”_  


_Fuck you, Crowley,_ Dean thought. _He’s not making me soft, he’s making me own up to my shit._ And then he ran his fingers through Sam’s hair and listened to the soft happy sound his sleeping brother made in response. _I made a mess, babe, but I’ll clean it up, I promise._

\--- --- --- --- ---

When the sun was about to rise, Dean finally got a little bit of shut-eye. Just enough to be ready to drive when he woke up a few hours later and wanted to let the Impala take them somewhere else. The open road was a need he’d keep until the day he died. Dean had always done his best thinking driving, and now he processed what had happened, labeled it and put it in a box. This one had to remain visible, not put away in the dark corner, because he was not about to walk right back into the trap he’d just managed to escape. No matter how good the bait was. Not if he didn’t have to _(and there was that thought, the one that was the reason to keep the box in sight)._

After a quick stop at a diner, Dean felt the first smile since he’d decided to take the job reach his lips. He ruffled Sam’s hair and let Led Zeppelin be their (very loud) guide to the unknown destination. Maybe he wouldn’t feel this good for too long, but he was going to enjoy the shit out of it, singing along to his favorite songs. He noticed Sam wasn’t as happy about the singing as he usually was, but he wrote that up as tiredness after what they’d been through. It had been hard on Sammy, carrying him like that. 

Sam had been glued to him for comfort and support for a day and a half. The second they closed the door to the new motel room (just as crappy as the last one), it was obvious the younger Winchester was longing for another kind of touch now. 

“You okay?” Sam asked, like he’d been waiting to get the all-clear. Like Dean singing in the car wasn’t proof enough he was more than fine. More than ready to give Sam what he wanted. 

“Why?” Dean asked innocently, teasing.

“Because… You know why” Sam said, lightly blushing.

Dean shrugged, smirking. “No idea, sweetness. You want me to go get food?”

“No, I don’t want you to go get food, Dean. I want you to fuck me. Now.” Sam’s voice was raw, wanting. 

“So, that’s what you want?” Dean pulled his brother in for a kiss. His hands found their way inside Sam’s t-shirt.

Sam struggled. “No, Dean, I don’t want more cuddling. I want you to make me hurt, make me beg, Dean! Now! Please.”

Dean backed, holding Sam’s shoulders so that his little brother couldn’t move, and met his eyes, trying to understand. Then it dawned on him why Sam was so desperate, even if Sam didn’t know it himself.

“No, babe, you are not getting anything that way” he said, the dark rasp in his voice being calm and warm.

“Yes, I am. You show me, Dean. Get me to listen” Sam said defiantly, with a hint of anxiety in his voice and the way he stared at Dean, challenging him. Sam acting like that was a neon sign, one Dean couldn’t have missed even if he tried. His brother’s need for a scene was real, but Dean knew the way Sam tried to get it, what he was trying to provoke Dean into, would hurt rather than help. _Oh, Sammy, don’t worry. I got you now, sweetness,_ he thought. 

“Oh no, no, Sammy. That is not how this works. You want what _I_ can give you? You want to be _mine_?” Dean asked, still holding Sam, his fingers clawing deep into the muscle around Sam’s shoulders. It hurt, would bruise, and it calmed Sam down. He stopped squirming and listened.

“Yes, I do. Please.”

Dean met Sam’s upset eyes with piercing green fire, back in full force. He made sure Sam listened by putting one hand underneath his chin, forcing Sam to keep the eye-contact. The other hand kept the tight grip, hard enough for Sam to draw a quick breath in pain when he tried to move. 

“Then you listen, babe, and you do what I say, or you will get nothing.”

Sam relaxed with a faint smile.

“Thank you, Sir. You punish me any way you see fit” he said, easing into his role.

Dean nodded approvingly and then he got Sam close again, kissed him just as tenderly as before, which made his little brother squirm in protest.

“Babe, be still” Dean said softly, but his tone left no doubt that his words had been an order.

“But…”

“Sweetness” Dean whispered in Sam’s ear, “you want to go to bed without me? Because you will, very soon. I’m all out of warnings.” 

Dean felt his little brother stop struggling, comforted by the calm authority conveyed in his voice. He’d never needed volume to get the message through. 

When he got Sam close, he could feel how his brother trembled when tension started to leave his body. Dean’s lips and hands made Sam whimper into his mouth, which was an amazing experience. It didn’t have the effect Sam might have hoped, though. Clothes stayed on, hands stayed above the waist. When Sam tried to get something more out of Dean, all he had to do was to whisper “no” in his brother’s ear, having established the rules clearly. Dean would give what he decided to give or nothing at all, Sam’s choice. 

Dean was driving his brother crazy, working hard as hell within the limits he’d set. 

“Please, please, Dean, please” his little brother begged, so pretty and forgetful of other words.

“Be good for me, sweetness, and you’ll get what you want” Dean murmured in the low hoarse voice he knew wouldn’t make things easier for Sam. One piece of clothing came off at a time, so slowly Sam was incoherent long before he was naked. 

“Dean, please, I need…” Sam breathed.

“Shhh, babe” Dean murmured.

“No, I can’t!” Sam moaned, “Please, Dean, please!”

“You can, babe. Do as I tell you” he answered, letting Sam know he had no choice in the matter.

“I…”

“Color, sweetness?”

Dean knew this was unexpected. So unexpected Sam was jerked out of his state of mind, if only for a second.

“Green, but, Dean…”

“Good, babe. I need to know” he mumbled, gave Sam a little nip that he knew would make Sam wish fervently for another one. Which he wouldn’t get, no matter how hard he begged.

The aching need in his little brother’s voice was delicious, but his resolve remained. He kept making Sam wait for every single little thing. Sam was so beautiful like this, oblivious of the world around him, of everything except for Dean. Responding to the lightest of touches, a single word whispered in his hear, Dean’s body moving with his for the shortest of moments. He struggled, tried so hard to do what was asked of him, that Dean knew there was not a thought in Sam’s mind about anything except what Dean told him, did to him, let him do. He was all Dean’s, perfect trust. And then, there was no room for any thoughts whatsoever, for Sam, or for him. 

Afterwards, Dean was pinning Sam down, using his weight to calm his brother, make him feel safe and taken care of. Just like he had so many times before, especially in the beginning. 

“Dean, I’m fine. You don’t have to do this” Sam said, exhausted and a tiny bit annoyed.

“Yes, babe, I do. I’m here now,” Dean murmured in Sam’s ear, “all here.”

Sam resigned with a smile and a happy little sigh, couldn’t keep his eyes open. All the tension was gone. His perfect trust was now coupled with perfect relaxation. Dean had made a little bubble for them, a bubble where Sam had found something he’d lost, something he’d needed back. He’d tried to do that the wrong way, an unhealthy way that violated who he was, who they were. Dean wouldn’t let him, because he knew, even if Sam didn’t, what his little brother had been looking for so desperately.

Everything Dean had done, every word and move, had been about one thing: Assuring Sam he was back, he was in control, and Sam could let go. Could trust Dean to take care of him, show him the way. That the drugs or the cold hitman persona hadn’t changed who Dean was. 

He was still the one who’d held Sam and made him sleep well for the first time in so many years. He was still the one who’d made Sam feel like he’d been a virgin, as promised, and who always made sure Sam was enjoying what they were doing, even when he knew the answer. Still the one who would keep Sam safe forever, and the one who knew Sam better than he did himself. And still the one who would comfort Sam, even when his little brother said there was no need. 

Dean smiled and kissed Sam’s cheekbone tenderly, his fingers wrapped up in apple-and-cinnamon-hair _(You like that I smell like pie?)._ When he gently rolled off, Sam made a little disappointed sound. Dean pulled him in, held him close and tight, just like he had those first nights to help his little brother fall asleep. 

“All here now” he murmured in Sam’s ear.

Sam answered, barely awake. 

“I love you.”


	24. Join the Circus, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers get back on the road and Dean suggests they join the circus. 
> 
> I know it took me a while to get this one done (sorry!!) but if it wasn't for my awesome beta reader zombieutopia I'd probably still be staring at it. I'll try to post the next one soon, but right now time just isn't on my side. Go read zombieutopia's stuff in the meantime ;)

The Winchesters had woken up early this morning after a couple of days of much-needed rest. Two hours after they got up, Sam was fresh out of the shower, starving, and staring at the symbol Charlie just sent him. He knew he’d seen it somewhere, and it drove him nuts. It was like the answer was right there in front of him but he still couldn't see it. The blurry picture had been scanned from an ancient, weathered book in Italy that was the only lead they had been able to find on the weird symbols Castiel had drawn for them. The book Tessa had flown overseas for and was preparing to steal for them.

Sam was interrupted by his brother coming through the door with breakfast and the smile that lit up the room and made everything else melt away. 

“Charlie says hi” Sam said, putting the laptop away and reaching for the hot coffee and the sandwich, desperately needing some sustenance after their particularly grueling morning work-out.'

“Say hi back” Dean said, light-hearted and still smiling. “Found us a case in the morning paper.” 

So that was why his brother was so happy. It sure was a welcome distraction from the annoying symbols and the fact that they were getting nowhere with the angel-demon stuff. Castiel hadn’t returned, and Dean wouldn’t pray for him, wanted to find out more first. Only no hunter on the planet seemed to know how to sift through the enormous pile of lore on angels and get to the truth about them.

“Got a present for you, babe” Dean said. “Hold out your hand.”

Sam made a curious face and did what was asked. He was rewarded with a small key.

“What’s this, Dean?”

His brother gave him one of those rare, sincere looks, no hint of jokes or sarcasm.

“I locked them all up, babe. You can have the key. I can’t do _never _, but…”__

__Sam looked down at the key, so small and yet with such big meaning. Dean hadn’t needed a key to get in anywhere for more than ten years (and neither did Sam, anymore), but this was symbolic. Dean was telling him he wouldn’t use without Sam knowing about it, not on a case, not ever. Sure, it wasn’t a promise to never use, but it was pretty damn close._ _

__“Thanks, Dean. I…”_ _

__Before Sam figured out how to tell Dean how happy he was about the key, his brother got out of the serious conversation by interrupting him._ _

__“Eat up, sweetness, we need to hit the road. There’s three missing kids waiting for us to save them.”_ _

__Sam read the news article as he was eating breakfast, Dean hurrying him along. The kids all disappeared when their families were visiting a travelling circus, and their parents swore they were there one second, gone the next. There were no witnesses and the circus had been thoroughly searched by local police, who’d of course found nothing._ _

__While Sam was googling the case, Dean was packing for them both, checking under the beds, in the bathroom, that nothing was forgotten. Not that a toothbrush mattered, but Dean wanted to make sure they didn’t leave anything suspicious behind. His brother had told him, more than once, that hunting wasn’t a job. It was a life. And it was every hour of every day, from making sure you didn’t leave weird stuff behind (which carried such little risk other hunters might ignore it, but Dean never did) to making sure the monster was really dead when you buried it._ _

__That had only made Sam more certain of what he wanted. He wanted the life, loved it, craved it. He was made for saving people, hunting things, and loving Dean. And that was all he needed to be happy._ _

__“Ready?” Dean asked._ _

__“Always” Sam smiled back at him._ _

__“Such a boy scout, Sammy” Dean teased, and opened the door to leave._ _

__The circus had already moved on. With Dean behind the wheel they should catch up with it right just as it rolled into a new town. It would demand some serious breaking of speed limits. Not that Dean minded, which was evident by his excitement as he patted the car, talking to it like a pet, before he got in the driver’s seat._ _

__“Let’s see,” Dean said as he rummaged through the cassette tapes, “what we feel like today. Requests, sweetness?”_ _

__Sam had never listened to the old school rock Dean lived and breathed, but he’d fallen in love with it simply because Dean loved it. Even if it was a bit repetitive after a while. He couldn’t imagine listening to the same songs for eighteen years, like Dean had. They were cassette tapes, for heaven’s sake. But they were a part of his brother and Sam loved the way music affected Dean._ _

__“No, Dean. Driver picks the music, whatever you want is fine.”_ _

__“Awesome” Dean said with a big grin, and seconds later, the Impala slid out of the parking lot, like it just got out of prison and enjoyed the freedom, to the tunes of AC/DC. Sam loved seeing his brother this carefree and happy after watching him go through a hell of his own (and John’s) making. Dean made the car roar and reward him for all those long hours fixing her up until she was in one hundred percent mint condition. It didn’t take long before they were far ahead of schedule and had time to stop for lunch._ _

__In a clean-enough restaurant booth at a decent diner, Dean asked what Sam wanted for his eighteenth birthday. Sam thought he had more than he’d ever could’ve wished for, which he wouldn’t say out loud, because if there’d ever been chick flick moments between them... And, also, he had something in mind._ _

__“Anything?” he said, with an innocent smile. Two could play that game._ _

__“Yeah, babe. I’ll give you the freaking moon” Dean said, and right when those words left his lips, he caught on and made a little suspicious frown._ _

__“Teach me how to drive the Impala” Sam said with a wide smile, eyes sparkling._ _

__Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. After a long pause, he answered with a less-than-friendly stare at Sam. He’d been played, and he knew he couldn’t get out of it now._ _

__“Fine. I said anything, and of _course_ you had to go there. And here I thought you’d ask for something fun.” _ _

__Sam laughed. “It can be fun.”_ _

__“Not for Baby” Dean grumbled._ _

__“What did you think I’d wish for, anyway?” Sam asked, shaking his head at Dean’s feelings about the car._ _

__Dean smiled, forgot about the driving lessons for the time being, and batted thick eyelashes at him. “Something enjoyable. There could’ve been costumes.”_ _

__Sam looked around, because unlike him, Dean didn’t always lower his voice when he touched on a subject nobody else had business knowing. He knew Dean enjoyed watching him blush and wonder what people were thinking._ _

__“What?” he wheezed._ _

__“Oh yeah. There could’ve been toys… could’ve been a night when dreams came true, Sammy.”_ _

__Now Sam knew his cheeks were burning red. He stared angrily at his brother, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he wished fervently the offer was still standing._ _

__“You think about what you’d want, and I’ll think about if you’ll still get it” Dean teased._ _

__Sam tried to think about anything but that, because they were still in a public place. They finished their meal, Dean grinning as he savored his burger and fries. He’d been muttering over the amount of veggies Sam’s puppy dog eyes had made sure they’d been eating over the last few days. Dean might be a perfectionist when it came to their work-outs, but he had very fuzzy ideas about what a good diet was, and Sam had sworn solemnly to keep his big brother better nourished than he’d been._ _

__When they left the diner, and walked towards the car, they found themselves eye to eye with two biker guys, one of them towering over even Sam. One of them spit on the ground, one inch from Dean’s shoes._ _

__“Fucking pervert” he growled. “Heard you in there, you sick fuck.”_ _

__“You did?” Dean answered in a way that reminded Sam of his first impressions of Dean; someone who didn't need to _act_ threatening, unlike the two standing in their way like two aggressive dogs. The silky tone in his brother’s voice highlighted the way his stance had changed in an almost imperceptible way. The two men couldn’t help but intuitively take a step back. That didn’t surprise Sam. A few other things did._ _

__Dean didn’t make any attempts at shielding him. This was new. His brother evidently didn’t believe he needed protection anymore. Or, more accurately, Dean had such confidence in him that it cancelled his natural, subconscious instinct to keep Sam safe._ _

__He himself felt a little bit worried that Dean would hurt the bikers, which wasn’t surprising. But other than that? He didn’t have the slightest hint of fear, anxiety, or any other feeling of that kind. He knew he could handle what was before him, with or without the help of his big brother. He realized that he had what he had been trying for, knowing he could never pull it off, at the group home. The endless hours of exhausting training and hunting had given him the same kind of ice cold calm his brother had._ _

__Dean let the bikers know he was carrying with a smooth gesture, giving them a predatory smile. Sam put a hand on his shoulder, like he was reminding Dean they were in a parking lot where other people could see them. Dean shrugged it off. They were giving the other two men a good reason to let them through, and it worked._ _

__When the brothers had gotten in the car, Sam realized he didn’t care about people’s opinions anymore, because he knew how he felt. What he and Dean had wasn’t wrong. Sam hadn’t even noticed when he’d lost his last doubt about that, but he had. His brother didn’t need to advertise it, though, no need for things like this to happen._ _

__The event quickly faded out of Sam’s mind, though, when Dean shrugged off the anger and offered up his happy singing instead. Not forgotten but shoved aside to enjoy the freedom of the road._ _

__\--- --- --- --- ---_ _

__They rolled into town as the circus folk were putting up posters. The men in brightly-colored clothes smiled at people passing them, but they didn’t fool the brothers for one second. The smiles were a bad attempt at hiding a bad mood. Maybe it was because nobody wanted to come to a circus where children disappeared, but Sam could see Dean suspected there were more to it. The older Winchester parked the Impala and they got out to inspect the posters. Then Dean smiled._ _

__“Sweetness, tell me why they’re putting on those fake-ass smiles and why that’s a good thing for us.”_ _

__Sam looked at him, confused._ _

__“You get that from the poster?”_ _

__“Why don’t you give it a try instead of asking about the obvious? Always look for something odd, Sammy” Dean said, slightly irritated. He didn’t like it when Sam didn’t try or gave up to easily._ _

__Sam turned his eyes back to the poster, trying out his skills as a detective. He’d learnt a lot of things since Dean came to get him, but not all of them were as easy to practice as shooting guns or picking locks. Research was Sam’s strong suit, but he had yet to learn how to read people and his surroundings like a book the way Dean did. He was getting there, though. He’d always been a smart kid (even if it seldom translated into good grades because of his aversion to authority), and now his learning curve was off the charts._ _

__“This big sticker is oddly placed” Sam said, thinking out loud. “Seems they’ve lost an act and had to hide it.”_ _

__“Yes, babe” Dean said, scrolling on his phone. “This morning, the police came to get one of their headliners. He’d faked his identity and had an outstanding warrant. Don’t think he’s napped any kids, but he won’t be returning for a good long while.”_ _

__“Okay, so that’s why they’re upset. Why is that good for us?”_ _

__“Because they need a new act. And what did this ‘Sharp Danger’ do, except for choosing the worst name in circus history?” Dean said, excitement brewing in his voice._ _

__“Throw knives?” Sam said questioningly, removing the sticker carefully and revealing the information hidden underneath._ _

__“And who do we know that could replace him?” Dean said with a big grin, eyes sparkling mischievously. At that moment, Dean looked every bit as young as he was._ _

__“You have _got_ to be kidding” Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief._ _

__“I won’t make you wear like a glittery bikini or anything, I promise” Dean said, sounding like he won the lottery._ _

__“This is a bad idea. This idea is worse than that stupid name” Sam groaned._ _

__“Come on, Sammy. I’ve always wanted to join the circus” Dean said, lightheartedly. Walking back to the car, Sam could tell, even from behind, how much his brother enjoyed this, by the merry bounce in his sexy swagger._ _

__\--- --- --- --- ---_ _

__Walking onto the circus grounds, where the tent was being raised and the accompanying little fun fair was coming to life, the brothers didn’t go unnoticed for long. Dean tried his charm, and it failed terribly. He wasn’t used to that happening and Sam couldn’t help but gloat just a little bit. He loved Dean to pieces, looked up to him every bit as much, but his big brother could be annoyingly cocky from time to time._ _

__“Fuck you very much” Dean muttered under his breath. “I thought the circus would be fun.”_ _

__Sam looked around. He felt weirdly at home, with all those unfriendly eyes at them. It was like a group home, all these rejects and cast-outs, except that the people here all seemed to have found each other. Sam smiled at them, trying to convey he was one of them, had been just as unwanted by society._ _

__Dean grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off to knock on the manager’s trailer door. The man who opened looked at them, said “No”, and closed the door again. Dean stared at the door like he could make it fly open with the power of his mind._ _

__“What the hell is this, Sammy?”_ _

__Sam snuck up close behind him, whispered in his ear. “These people are outcasts, Dean, and they were just accused of being kidsnatchers. They won’t trust anyone.”_ _

__Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this” he mumbled. Then he pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and held it against the trailer window. “Listen!” he roared at the manager inside. “If you don’t want to hire me, I’ll give you this. But you have to see what you’re turning down first.”_ _

__No response. Dean made an angry sound and added another bill. “That’s all I got, you bastard!”_ _

__Of course, that wasn’t true. Dean was rolling in it since payment had come through. Sam didn’t want to think about that, but every time Dean paid for something, it stung a little._ _

__The manager opened the door. Right now, he probably needed every cent he could get, with his circus being haunted by rumors of lost children. He looked like he’d lived a hard life. Sam thought he probably was around double Dean’s age, but his face could pass for ten years older. Too much booze, too many problems._ _

__“Why would you give me two hundred for free, boy?” he asked with a hostile tone._ _

__“Because you won’t take them when you see how good I am” Dean said, immodest as ever._ _

__Sam wondered how good his brother really was. He remembered the guy next to him choke on Dean’s knife back when Gordon had trapped them, but that was the one time. He’d barely seen Dean practice since then. Sam had good reason to think about that, because minutes later, he found himself leaning against the oversized dartboard that the badly named Sharp Danger had used before he got himself incarcerated. Sam swallowed hard and the manager laughed._ _

__“Seems your little friend has his doubts about how good you are, Ken-doll” he said with a rough voice, marked by too many smokes. He lit a cigarette as the circus folk gathering around them laughed._ _

__Dean pulled out his throwing knives, whispered “Don’t worry, babe, just stay absolutely still” and walked up to his mark. Sam steeled himself, still nervous, but when he saw the mischievous smile Dean flashed at him he calmed down. If Dean was this confident there was no danger, he had no reason to be afraid. When the first knife hit its mark, so close to him even the seasoned circus folk inhaled sharply, he temporarily forgot that insight, but as knives surrounded him, he found Dean’s sparkling green eyes and relaxed again. Just as long as he could pretend they were the only ones there, everything felt okay. Monsters might’ve been less scary than spectators to Sam._ _

__Ten minutes later, they had earned themselves a try-out gig the following day and a great excuse to hang around the circus until then. Sam would’ve preferred some less spectacular cover, but his brother apparently loved the spotlight so much he’d even handed over the two hundred as rent for the oversized dartboard and some oddly smelling stage clothes Sam really, really didn’t like. Not that he’d have to dress up in a glittery bikini, but it wasn’t far from it. The circus manager had an eye for what the audience wanted, and shirtless Winchesters was a great way to get any soccer mom’s interest peaked._ _


	25. Join the Circus, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters try their best but the end result isn't what they'd expected.

It didn't take more than five minutes for it to become obvious that Dean wasn't going to get anywhere with the circus folk. His talent was undeniable but that didn't make them like him any more. Sam quietly asked his brother to let him try on his own. Dean shrugged.

“I’ll go check on Baby. Talk to people in town. Let me know how it goes.”

Sam knew that the trick would be making them trust that he was a freak, just like them, had been his entire life. He needed to find a way to worm his way in under their defenses. Strolling around, he soon found that working the circus circuit was no way to get rich. A lot of the trailers wouldn’t pass a closer safety inspection, and the tent was old and worn-out. At the back of the tent a guy was cursing an old generator, giving it an angry kick as it rumbled unevenly, spitting out smoke. Sam spotted the opportunity and quietly offered to help. He was met by suspicion and a slightly hostile shrug.

“Sure, kid. You break it, you buy it.”

Sam nodded and kneeled down next to the broken machine. He tried to channel Dean and remember how things like this worked. His brother was a skilled mechanic and had taught him a thing or two over the last few months. Hopefully enough. 

Ten minutes later, the generator was humming quietly like it was supposed to, and the guy introduced himself as Troy. 

“You got time, Sam?” he asked, still cautious, but Sam knew he had his first steppingstone, right there.

“Got nothing else to do” he answered.

“And your partner?” Troy asked. 

Sam didn’t meet his eyes and gave his best impression of insecurity. Not that hard, considering he’d been an outcast for many years.

“He’s gone to… socialize. It’s not, well, I’m… I got nothing else to do, like I said.” 

“Gone chasing tail, you mean?” Troy scoffed and started to walk with a little nod to tell Sam to come along. 

Turned out, Sam had found a gold mine. Troy was born at a circus and had worked at this one since he was a kid. Sadly, he’d never found a talent of his own, so he assisted everyone else, which meant he knew every single person at the circus. There was no lack of things to do and Sam’s help was making Troy’s day a lot easier. An hour later, Sam had nudged Troy into telling him about the people working there. Working together was a great distraction, making the conversation flow easier. 

After a few tiring and sweaty hours, Troy invited him to eat with the others that night. Dean was invited to join but it was painfully obvious nobody would miss him if he’d found new friends elsewhere. Sam walked to the parking lot, thinking a shower and some clean clothes would be a good idea. The Impala was gone, which meant Dean was town. He looked around as he called his brother, checked that nobody could hear him. 

“Hey, where are you?” Sam asked. 

“Talking to people” his brother answered. 

Sam sighed when he heard the background noises. Dean hadn’t told him where he was talking to people, but he didn’t have to. Sam had ears.

“At a bar?” he asked. 

“Where there are people” Dean said, and Sam could hear the playfully innocent smile on his brother’s face. 

“Dean, are you drinking?” 

Sam wasn’t sure he liked the thought of Dean drinking alone, light-hearted or not. It wasn’t too long ago Dean had used alcohol in a very destructive way.

“I got bored” Dean said and mumbled something inaudible to someone else. 

“Oh. You got bored.”

Sam started walking to town. Right now, they didn’t have time discussing drinking in the afternoon. They had to work the case. It wouldn’t take him more than twenty minutes to get their motel, perfect for going over all the things Troy had told him one more time. So far, he had nothing, but maybe, if he put it all together, something suspicious would pop up. Walking or running usually helped him think. 

“So, you done talking to the circus freaks? Want me to come get you?” Dean asked.

Sam declined the offer, telling Dean to get a coffee and then meet him at the motel. Twenty minutes later, Dean was waiting in their room, eyeing him as he walked in. 

“They worked you hard, sweetness. Like the look, all dirty and sweaty” he said, winking at Sam. 

“I stink.”

“I don’t mind” Dean said, put his arms around Sam, smelling faintly of whiskey, old leather, and… Dean. 

Sam shook his head with a little laugh, forgetting his worries for the time being. “I do.” 

Then he told Dean what he’d found out, which was basically nothing. There were no obvious suspects, nobody new, nobody who’d gone missing, nothing like this had happened before. Dean hadn’t gotten any information worth mentioning, either, which wasn’t very surprising. After going through what he’d learned from Troy, Sam told his brother about the dinner they were invited to. Dean backed up a step, looked him in the eyes. 

“Us… or you?” 

Sam didn’t have to voice an answer. His face made it obvious Dean was an unwanted plus one.

“You want me to come, Sammy? Or keep going solo?”

This was his brother asking him how to proceed, trusting his opinion, even if one of the options was Sam going at it alone. It took Sam a second to answer, savoring the moment. He wasn’t just the little brother anymore, trying to help. He was a trusted partner. 

“They don’t like you very much, so…”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t like them very much.” Then he smiled. “But if you’re all eating weird-ass circus food at your weird-ass little party it’s a perfect opportunity for me to do some breaking-and-entering.”

Sam nodded. That wasn’t a bad idea. 

“And,” Dean said, “good job, Sammy. Dinner means opportunities, you know?”

“Holy water in their drinks, passing silverware around, that kind of thing?”

Maybe it was a shapeshifter, taking someone else’s place at the circus. Or maybe, even if there’d been no mentions of sulfur, someone was possessed. Maybe that thing was a very good actor. Sam didn’t like all the maybes. They made him uneasy and on edge.

“That’s right, babe. And I’ll be close, I’ll hear you if whatever it is hulks out” Dean said, catching his hand. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sam let himself be led to the shower. He had an hour or two before dinner, and it would be good to forget all about circuses and missing children for a while. Maybe that was what they needed to clear their heads, find a new perspective. Right now, he was stuck, and Dean, no matter how much lore he had memorized, was just as clueless. 

\--- --- --- --- ---

Sam was scared that the tension would give him a muscle cramp, but it was damn near impossible to relax when he didn’t have the option to move even an inch. He made himself go through everything everyone had said at the dinner. Made a mental list of when each person had, unknowingly, drunk holy water or touched silver. Then he started counting in Latin. Anything to keep his mind off all the eyes around him, watching his every move (or, well, watching him standing perfectly still). 

He barely noticed how close to him the knives were when they hit their mark. He just wished his brother would stop with the fucking showmanship, so they could be done and get out of the spotlight, because that, he had a big problem with. He felt sweat trickling down his back, all oiled up to objectify him as much as possible, dressed in that horrible fucking costume. And could Dean stop being so theatrical and throw the damned knives?! 

Then Sam saw something that made him forget they had an audience. His brother was showing his last knives to the people, making them lean forward in anticipation. He was getting ready to skewer apples (it’s classic for a reason, babe). “Angel”, also known as Dean Winchester, was all oiled up too, sculpted muscles catching eyes just like the manager had planned. Watching Dean, who he knew better than himself, in a totally new situation made Sam remember where he’d seen the symbol Charlie had found, the one that looked like what Castiel had drawn up for them. He felt the circus melt away until all he could see was what he should have seen all along. One of the apples slipped from his sweaty left hand, and it jerked him back to reality. A reality where Dean, turning around, winced when he saw Sam saving the apple from falling. There was no room for even the slightest movement right now. Sam took a deep breath and willed his body to return to its motionless state. Get it together, Sam. 

He gave Dean the slightest of nods, yeah, I can do this, and felt more than saw how Dean had to force himself to focus, too. If Sam moved even an inch, his brother could wound him badly, and Dean had just seen him almost lose control over his body. Sam locked eyes with Dean, let the green fire be his focal point, pushing the realization out of his thoughts until they were done. Dean gave him an almost imperceptible nod back and finished the show. 

When they were done, Sam mechanically bowed for the audience. He could feel Dean’s quick glance, wordlessly asking him “what’s wrong?”. The audience clapped their hands and whistled, but Sam barely noticed that. Then Dean was grabbing his hand, getting them both out of the tent, into the cool night air. 

“Sammy? What happened in there?” 

Dean was worried, and there was no use trying to tell him it was stage fright. But they didn’t have time to talk about this. The short window between now and when the show ended had to be used to check out the last trailer, the only one Dean hadn’t been able to get into. 

“Later, Dean. We have to check out the manager’s trailer, remember?”

His brother wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but he gave Sam a look that said they were talking about this the second they left the trailer and gestured for Sam to start walking. On the way there, Dean’s phone buzzed. 

“Wait, Sam, it’s from Charlie.”

Sam turned around to see his brother reading the message and make an angry face, almost throwing the phone into the wall of the nearest trailer.

“We’re leaving” Dean said, started to walk to the Impala. Sam felt his own phone buzz and read the text from Charlie before he jogged to catch up with Dean. 

Kids found, M.E:s report says they died this morning. Entrails put on display. Linking the report and article. Three more kids gone missing, all back in Eltonville.

This morning. Nobody from the circus would’ve had time to go all the way back to their previous stop to kill the kids without the brothers noticing them gone. 

Sam barely had time to get into the car before Dean sped off. 

“It was never the circus, Sam” he said, all playfulness and carefreeness gone from his voice.

“Or, at least, it was never any of the circus folk” Sam said.

“Three kids dead. Three more missing. And we’re half a day away. That’s on me” Dean continued angrily, almost to himself.

Sam shook his head. “No, Dean. That’s on us.”

Dean didn’t answer, but it was obvious that even if he was ready to share the workload, he wasn’t ready to share the blame when things went sideways. 

Sam reached for his laptop to read the links Charlie had sent while Dean was trying to break his own record for speeding. The monster was still out there, free to kidnap more kids. But it seemed the kids were kept alive for days. Maybe they could be saved, even if he and Dean had failed to save the first three kids. Either way, they had work to do.


	26. He's my everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean finally find the monster, but have an even greater mystery to dig into afterwards. 
> 
> Side note: I can't tell you how much it means to me that so many people have decided to subscribe to this story! I've had a hard time lately and you guys motivate me to keep going :) You and zombieutopia, my awesome beta reader.

It was pitch-black outside the car as they drove, no moon and no stars. It seemed a fitting backdrop for Dean's mood. Sam read over the information Charlie had sent them, distracting himself from the unnerving speed at which the Impala was tearing down the road, and read the key points out loud for his brother. The older Winchester barely acknowledged he was listening.

“That’s it, Dean. That’s all we know so far.” 

Sam sighed when he didn't get a response and turned his attention back to his phone, searching for something that fit the information Charlie had provided. He tried to just focus on the details and not dwell on the fact that the victims in this case had been real, living children. There wasn't time to let himself feel bad about what happened, not if they were going to save the remaining missing children from the same fate.

After several minutes in tense silence, Dean sighed.

“Sam? There’s only one thing I know with that M.O., killing kids and leaving entrails by a river” he said.

“A kelpie does, but they’re from Scotland.” Sam was talking and reading at the same time. 

“Yeah, I know. Fucking monsters immigrating” Dean muttered. “I hate it when they do that.”

“So, you think that’s it? A kelpie?” Sam asked, looking up from the laptop just as the Impala shot past another car, one of the few out this time of night. 

“Yeah.” Dean said. “They shape-shift, right?”

Sam saw the other car disappearing fast in the rear mirror. His t-shirt was clinging uncomfortably to his oily skin as he moved. He tugged at it which didn’t help. 

“Yeah, they do. You think it just got on a plane?”

Dean shrugged. “Probably. What else do we know?”

“Well, the lore says they’re mostly male, their original form is a horse, silver bullets kill them and…” Sam gave Dean a puzzled gaze. “What happened to that photographic memory of yours?”

These days, Sam was a faster researcher than his brother – but Dean had so much lore jammed into his headHe usually figured things out first anyway. And he usually remembered more than a thing or two about a monster. 

“Can’t memorize everything, Sammy” Dean said. “There’s too many fucking supernatural freaks out there even for my magnificent brain.” 

Sam chuckled. “And to think the circus folk found you too cocky. I’ll read up on kelpies then, now that this one left the lochs.” 

After three hours of reading everything about kelpies, studying every picture of the crime scene he could find, listening to every news reports, reading every article, until Sam thought there wasn't anything more to find. He yawned, watching one of the local news clips for the third time, blinking tiredly. Then it clicked, just like it had with the symbol. 

“Wait” he mumbled to himself. “Is that it?”

“Is what it?” Dean asked.

Sam ignored him and straightened a little in his seat, fingertips flying over the keyboard as he pursued his hunch, pulling up new news clips and previously overlooked articles. “That has got to be it.”

“WHAT, Sam?” Dean said, getting impatient.

“Look, I’ve watched all the local news reports online. The reporter that covers the story is new in town, she has flowers in her hair and she’s always wearing a long dress and boots” Sam said.

“We’re looking for a _kelpie_ , Sam, not a _hippie_ ” Dean scoffed.

“Her name is Fiona, Dean, that’s Scottish” Sam said. “And the flowers are water lilies. That’s almost like seaweed, right? Like a kelpie would have in its hair. And even when everyone else is in heels, she wears boots. Like she doesn’t want to show her feet.”

When Dean didn’t answer right away, Sam continued. “Because if she’s a kelpie, she doesn’t have feet, Dean. She has hooves.”

Dean nodded appreciatively. “Good job, Sammy. We’ll check this Fiona-chick out when we get there.” Then he lowered the music. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” 

“I can stay awake,” Sam said, “and keep you awake.”

“Sweetness, I’ve driven farther on less sleep. Maybe I can get some shut-eye when we get there, if you’re ready to do some leg-work while I do.”

Sam smiled as he fell asleep. Dean trusted him now, knew he could carry his own weight. That felt better than any praise he’d ever gotten. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

“Morning, sleeping beauty” Dean said getting into the car. “You ready to be a fanboy?”

Sam blinked and rubbed his face and then accepted the coffee handed to him. “What?”

“Fiona’s good-looking, babe, she could have groupies. You’ll go there and puppy-dog-eye your way in as one of them.” 

Dean grinned and looked annoyingly good considering he’d lost a night’s sleep. 

Sam stretched as much as he could inside the car. “Thought you were the charmer in the family.”

Dean snickered and shook his head. “I need to sleep. And you’re not looking to get some, Sammy.”

“Good to know” Sam said. “I’ll just be a stalker fan of the child-killing monster, then, not having sex with it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the jealous type, but no monster-sex for you” Dean said. He was back to his normal self now, had processed the fact that they’d been wrong about the circus. 

Sam shook his head and demanded a shower before he went anywhere. He was still wearing his stupid circus pants and his t-shirt was soaked with oil. And the stupid theatre make-up was all over his face. Dean in his leather jacket looked like a rock-star with sooty eyes. Sam, looking in the car’s rear mirror, thought he resembled a child being forced to wear make-up by a cruel big sister. He wasn’t going anywhere public like this. 

Sam waited in the car when Dean checked them in, promising himself he’d never ever agree to do anything like the circus ever again. The room was kind of shitty, like they always were, but the shower felt like heaven. When he got out of there, Dean was sleeping like a baby. Sam got dressed and wrote a note for his big brother.

_Gone monster-stalking. Love you._

He smiled, thinking Dean might not want to say that back when he woke up, because Sam successfully stole the keys to the Impala out of Dean’s pocket before leaving. Or so he thought. When he opened the door, Dean told him, half-asleep: “One dent, Sammy, and you’ll never drive Baby again. And…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Dean. Go back to sleep.” 

Dean mumbled something, but he didn’t try to stop Sam even though it was obvious he really wanted to. Sam made a face at him and left. Driving the Impala wasn’t driving Jody’s car, but it wasn’t rocket science either. 

He parked on the other side of the park outside the building where Fiona worked. Walking through the park, he spotted someone who could make his plan even better. 

“Hey, kid” Sam said as he put a hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “You want to return the wallet to the nice man you bumped into or do me a favor?”

The kid opened his mouth, ready to tell Sam to go to hell, but changed his mind when Sam dangled the wallet in front of him. 

“I’ll give it back to you” Sam said. He’d been one of those kids, he knew how to talk to them. “I just need a small favor first.”

The kid glared at him, but he didn’t run. “What kind of favor?”

Sam smiled. “Nothing big.”

Sam knew he was too old to catch a kelpie’s interest. This kid wasn’t. Walking in and asking for Fiona on his own might not have worked that well, puppy dog eyes or not. Now, he had his “little brother” explain they were on a road-trip, and he’d really really want an autograph from the new reporter he’d seen on television last night. Sam shook his head and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“He collects autographs, this one. I promised him we’d ask.” He flashed a smile at the receptionist. She smiled back, touching her hair. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” She picked up the phone and a few minutes later, she’d arranged for a short autograph session in about half an hour. Either Fiona was a nice person, or the kelpie couldn’t resist finding out more about a kid no one in town would miss. 

When Fiona showed up, Sam had gotten the receptionist’s phone number, just in case he wanted to know a good place to eat while they were in town. He’d also promised the kid an extra twenty for waiting. 

“Hi there” Fiona said with a smile and just a hint of a Scottish accent. “You the cutie who want my autograph?” 

The kid nodded enthusiastically with sparkling eyes. Sam had made the right call – this kid could lie. 

“Thank you so much for taking time to meet us” Sam said, shook her hand and opened his sparkling water as he was taking a step back. That step wasn’t enough, though, because someone had shaken the bottle long enough to make it explode all over him – and Fiona. That someone, of course, being Sam, who told her he was sorry over and over again until she left them to change clothes. 

“I’ll be back for that autograph, wee one, don’t you worry!” she said.

It didn’t take her long, but Sam had more than enough time to turn on the GPS in her phone. It seemed to be a good day for picking pockets. Sam handed her the phone when she came back, saying she’d dropped it on the floor. She smiled, wrote the autograph and made some polite small talk. 

“Thank you so much, again, for seeing us. My little brother, he’s watched your clips over and over again” Sam said.

Back in the park, Sam handed the kid the wallet and made him promise to stay far away from Fiona or the motel. The way she’d eyed the kid and then casually asked how long they were staying and where they lived was enough for him to be more than a little suspicious. 

Fiona would, according to herself, be working for the rest of the day, so Sam went to check her apartment out. No alarm, and the lock was easily picked. He didn’t need long to confirm his suspicions. Her fridge was empty and there was sea-weed in her bathtub. The only remaining question was where she kept the kids. He snuck back out to get lunch and wake Dean up, but before he got to the car, his phone buzzed.

_Dean: Find anything?_  
Sam: Tell you when I get back. Bringing lunch.  
Dean: If you’re texting and driving I’ll kick your ass. 

Sam picked up lunch at the first place he could find and drove back to the hotel. When he’d told his brother about the things pointing to Fiona, and that her apartment gave no clues about where she kept the kids, Dean quickly decided they should have lunch on their way. They needed to go check out the riverbank. Maybe they could backtrack the kelpie before she got off work. Even if it was a slim chance they’d pull that off, they had nothing else to do. 

“You drive” Dean said. 

“Really?” Sam said. That wasn’t what he’d expected.

“I want to see how you treat her” Dean said.

_What he meant,_ Sam thought to himself five minutes later, _was that he wanted to be the worst backseat driver ever_. He tried to ignore most of the constant complaining, thinking that Dean would eventually tire and stop. The drive out to the woods wasn’t long enough for that to happen, though. 

Fiona, or at least her phone, hadn’t moved anywhere when Sam parked the Impala. They walked through the woods and climbed down to the riverbank where the kids’ entrails had been found. Sam looked at the photos of the crime scene to make sure they were at the right place. They were. There was a small piece of police tape left at the scene and footprints from the police and reporters that’d been there to confirm it.

“We’ll have to stake out her house” Dean said as he was trying and failing to find any traces of a kelpie being around there. “I don’t think child-eating monster horses use phones. Maybe she’ll leave it at home.”

Sam smiled. “I also lojacked her car. But maybe she doesn’t use that either.”

“You what?” Dean asked, turning to him. 

“Lojacked her car.”

Dean gave him a curious gaze. “Where did you get the money for a lojack?”

Sam knew money wasn’t a problem, but he wouldn’t ask for it if he didn’t absolutely have to. Buying expensive stuff would make him remember where the money came from. Dean probably knew that.

“Built it” Sam said, still trying to find something that would point them in the right direction. It was hopeless, especially since there’d been so many other people around. It was a longshot, anyway, since the kelpie probably had gotten there and back in the water, which meant tracking it was impossible.

“You _built_ it?”

“Yeah” Sam said, giving up the search and smiling at Dean, “you taught me there’s instructions for anything at Youtube, remember?”

Sam hadn’t returned to the sniper-rifle instructions, but he had found a few other useful things. He wanted to do better as a hunter, learn new things. 

“You’re awesome, babe” Dean said, grinning with pride.

\--- --- --- --- ---

They’d been parked outside Fiona’s apartment building for half an hour. The spot they’d found let them see Fiona’s living room, where she sat watching TV. Not the most exciting moment of Sam’s career as a hunter. 

“She’ll probably stay here until it gets dark” Dean said, playing with Sam’s hair. “We’ve got time. Why don’t you tell me about what happened at the circus?”

Sam bit his lip. “I…”

Dean put his hand under Sam’s chin, making him look Dean in the eyes. 

“Sweetness, whatever it is, just tell me.” 

“I remembered where I’ve seen a symbol like the ones Castiel drew. Like the one Charlie sent. Not the exact same one, maybe, but I think… they are very alike.” Sam spoke quickly, like he wanted it out as fast as he could now that they were talking about it.

Dean checked that Fiona hadn’t moved and then turned back to Sam. 

“Where?”

Sam took a deep breath. “You know those shadowy patterns Rufus made around your angel wings? There.” 

Dean’s eyes widened. “I’ve got angel symbols on my back?” 

“I thought they were just patterns, that’s why I didn’t… they’re not black, like the other symbols. But I’m pretty sure…” 

Dean turned around and lifted his t-shirt. “Check, Sammy. Right now.”

Sam traced the patterns with a finger, found what he’d known he’d find. There they were, small and pale gray, surrounded by patterns around the feathers. Rufus had done his best to hide them. Sam took photos and showed them to Dean.

“That’s… yeah, that’s the same kind. Must be.”

“And you know, I’ve read up on it… a tattoo that big, it should’ve taken a lot longer. Like months.” 

Dean made a concerned face. “I don’t like this, Sammy. Who the fuck is that Rufus and what did he do to me?”

“And why didn’t I realize sooner?” Sam said, because that had been worrying him. Even if the symbols weren’t supposed to be seen, he should’ve known. 

There were a lot of questions and barely any answers. When Fiona finally left her home, they still hadn’t figured much out. Sam had sent the pictures to Charlie. They’d agreed they had to go see Rufus. Make him tell them how he knew symbols no hunters had ever heard of. Other than that, the symbols were a mystery they’d have to get back to after they were done with the case.

Fiona walked to her car and with a quick glance around, she got in. They watched as her car disappeared around the corner. Thanks to the lojack, they didn’t have to follow her too closely. When she stopped, Sam parked the Impala by the road and the Winchesters quietly ran through the woods to catch up to her. They did just as she was done undressing and was putting her clothes in the trunk of her car. Dean tilted his head.

“Not bad,” he whispered “… except for her feet. Not digging them.” 

Sam shook his head at his brother, not even answering that remark. Fiona looked around, and when she seemed sure she was alone, she bent over like she was about to pull up her socks, only she wasn’t wearing any. She clawed at her skin where it met the hooves, and when she got hold of the edges, she started to peel the skin off, shaking her fingers to get rid of the weird, transparent goo that seemed to replace her blood. Her legs burst open, like she’d been wearing pants that were so tight that the seams couldn’t hold any longer. She scratched at the skin on her stomach and back, trying to uncover the dark, hairy body under it. Pieces of skin fell to the ground, and the jelly attached to it made sickening wet sounds as it hit the ground. 

“Gross” Sam whispered, slightly nauseous. 

“Even more than usual” Dean answered with disgust written all over his face as the kelpie kept ripping itself apart until it had freed itself of its human costume. It shook itself like a wet dog would, sending goo everywhere around it. When it was done, its face had fallen out, re-shaped into something vaguely reminding of a horse’s head, or a horse-relative from a Lovecraftian world. 

The kelpie, now walking on hands and hooves, slipped into the forest at the edge of the road. Hoping it would lead them to the missing kids, they followed behind it, keeping their distance. They watched it pause for a moment as it approached a rocky outcropping by the riverbank, considering a small cave entrance, before it continued down to the water.

“Probably where the kids are,” Sam whispered, “but it needs to go down to the water first.”

Dean looked at the cave and then the kelpie. 

“Sammy, you go after her. I’ll get the kids back to the car if they’re in there” he whispered in Sam’s ear. 

Sam gave his brother a quick, surprised look, and then nodded enthusiastically. Finally, Dean would let him do the dangerous part of a hunt, not be the back-up, shielded behind his older brother. He followed the kelpie down to the water, watching it dive in with an alien ease. His phone vibrated. 

_Dean: Got the kids. Kill it.  
Sam: Okay._

He was a bit nervous the kelpie wouldn’t come back up, because it was barely visible in the water and could easily slip away. It didn’t stay there for long though, probably because it wanted to get back to its captives now that the urge to swim had been sated. When it started to walk towards him and the woods, Sam aimed and squeezed the trigger, just like he’d practiced endlessly. The kelpie went down with an eerie scream. It tried to turn around and drag itself down to the water, but Sam fired again. The silver bullets hit their target easily. Sam was a very good shot. Then he walked up to it, making sure it was dead. He hid it under a tree, hoping nobody would find it, and started to walk back. When the kids were safe, they could return to burn the body.

Dean was waiting for him by the car, with three very scared little kids in the backseat, tucked into blankets to warm them up (and protect the Impala from mud and sand). The older Winchester was standing outside with the door open, so he could talk to them.

“…see, there he is, my brother, just like I told you. That bitch won’t ever hurt anyone again, I promise you.”

“Thank you, Dean” said the little girl with eyes that spoke volumes of what she’d been through. She seemed tough though, would survive and recover. Kids are resilient; Sam knew that a little too well.

It was surprising seeing how good Dean was with the children. The way they looked at him, they already trusted him, in spite of what had happened to them. 

“No, she won’t” Sam said and walked up to Dean, straight into a rough hug and a soft kiss, Dean’s hand in his hair.

“Good job, sweetness” Dean said, keeping him close.

“Didn’t you say he was your brother?” the girl asked with a confused face.

“Honey, we…” Dean started, but for once, he didn’t have a good answer. 

“He’s my everything” Sam said, and hugged his brother again.


	27. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a nightmare and the brothers go to visit Rufus.
> 
> Big thanks to zombieutopia for the patience with my Swenglish :) 
> 
> (Added some tags for upcoming chapters)

Sam Winchester wanted to be a hunter because of days like this one, days when he and his brother saved children and made the world a better place. Returning to burn the kelpie’s corpse might not be Sam’s favorite part of hunting, but not even the stench could make him stop smiling. Walking back to the car he savored the moment of successfully finishing a hunt. It felt amazing.

“Shower, sleep, go see Rufus?” Dean asked as he opened the car door. 

Sam sighed. Maybe the hunt was finished, but they had plenty of things left to figure out how to deal with, and a lot worse than a single monster – weird symbols and the looming threat of a supernatural war between angels and demons. 

“Yeah” he said and got in the car. The feeling of being on top of the world was suddenly gone. 

“Hey, babe, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” 

Dean pulled him in for a long kiss. His brother might not hold back his own feelings any longer, trusting Sam could take it – but he still picked up on Sam’s mood in a second, just like he always had. And he had this way of making Sam believe everything would work out, calm him down. Warm air in his hair when he was little, warm arms around him, that green fire that made problems melt away. And now, when he wasn’t little anymore, lips that made his racing thoughts dissolve into nothingness. 

“You don’t know that.” Sam said when Dean let him go. But the anxiety died out instead of growing stronger. 

When he fell asleep that night, at a new motel, Sam thought it was gone for good, but the next morning, he woke up early and with a gasp. He’d dreamt about the symbols… or, more accurately, he'd had nightmares about them. Bringing his anxiety back in full force. It’d been a long time since he’d had nightmares like that, making him wake up in panic. Back before they burnt the demon blood out of his body. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to start his mornings bathed in cold sweat and unable to take deep breaths. 

Sam couldn’t stay still. He carefully got out of Dean’s arms and behind him to try and do something, trying to shake the feeling of helplessness. His fingers trailed the patterns, the feathers, the symbols on his brother’s back, trying to make out any detail that could be a part of a symbol. He reached for his phone to take photos for a digital collection of the mysteries hiding in the beautiful craftmanship. _Fool me once_ , he thought and got rid of the lamp-shade on the table lamp. The cord was a bit short, but he got better lighting for the continued hunt for symbols they didn’t know. And the ones they knew… might as well catalogue those, too.

“Sammy?” Dean said and yawned. “I’m trying to sleep here.”

“I’m doing inventory.” Sam said. “Maybe that asshole put other stuff in here, too.” 

“Mm-hm. What time is it?” Dean asked. 

Sam, totally immersed in what he was doing, didn’t answer. Dean snorted and reached for his cell.

“Stay still!” Sam said, trying to keep his finger right where it was even when Dean leaned over to get the phone.

“Sam. We’ve slept like five hours, and that tattoo isn’t going anywhere. You really have to do that _now_?” Dean asked with more than a hint of irritation. 

Sam would’ve felt bad about waking Dean up if he wasn’t still caught in the nightmare, feeling something was horribly wrong without knowing exactly what. His heart was beating fast and his breath was shallow, his fingers trembling from the tension that held his body in an iron grip.

“I just…” he said, voice trailing off as he kept searching every little piece of the patterns.

Dean made an annoyed sound, but he was used to forcing himself to wake up. He turned around to face Sam, who at first didn’t register that meant Dean was trying to figure out what the hell was happening. 

“Wait, I…” Sam started, but then, seeing Dean react to him, he realized how close to panic the dream had pushed him. Even if he admitted to himself that what he was doing came out of fear he still couldn’t stop examining the tattoos on Dean’s chest, hoping that keeping busy would make him feel better. Dean gazed up at him, searching for an explanation for his behavior.

“You had a nightmare.” Dean tried to catch his eyes. “One of _those_ nightmares?”

“Yeah” Sam whispered. “I have to…”

“No, you don’t, Sammy. Listen to me.” Dean said, demanding his attention.

Sam made and effort to listen, calm down, but it didn’t work. He had to try and find out what the dream was about, what the symbols on Dean’s skin meant. The nightmare had felt like one of those dreams, and Dean didn’t know how often they’d panned out to be true over the years they’d spent apart. Maybe he still had them. Maybe this frenzy was the result of subconsciously knowing he had to find _something_ , even if he couldn’t figure out what that something was. 

His brother sat up in the bed and caught his trembling fingers, kissed the fingertips and put Sam’s hand on his own chest. Sam could feel Dean’s heartbeat as his brother pulled him close, blowing warm air into his hair, just like he’d done when they were kids. Missouri had never managed to help him like Dean had, and when his brother hadn’t been around, the feeling of abandonment had only made the panic and anxiety worse. But Dean was here now, wordlessly helping him regain control. Breathe in, breathe out. He tried to focus on synchronizing each breath with his brothers, trying to shake the overwhelming doomsday feeling that had taken over. It felt like it took forever, but eventually the anxiety began to settle.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” he said quietly. “Didn’t mean to wake you up like that.” 

“I know, Sammy.” Dean murmured in his ear. “And I’m not looking to cherry-pick with you. I want it all, nightmares included. Don’t be sorry.” His brother was so soft, so loving, Sam wondered if other people would even recognize his brother’s voice if they could hear him. 

\--- --- --- --- --- 

The next day, they arrived in town well before closing time. Sam still hadn’t figured out what he was supposed to find. It was like he could remember the feelings he’d had, that he somehow had to stop it, (but how could he stop Dean from having tattoos that were already made?) but not exactly what it was. The dreams used to be a lot clearer.

“It’s so damn frustrating. I used to hate those dreams, wish I’d forget them. Now that I need to know the details they’re just not there.” Sam grumbled as they walked to the store. 

Dean gave his hand a little squeeze. “Try to stop thinking about it, babe.” he said. 

Then he stopped and glared at the tattoo parlor’s door. Coming all this way because Rufus wouldn’t pick up his damn phone and then finding the store abandoned made Dean look like he wanted to punch something. Instead, they went asking around where Rufus might have gone. They weren’t surprised to find out that nobody knew. 

“We’ll have to wait, break in after hours. Try to find something that tells us where the fucker went.” Dean said. 

After dark, Sam got to practice his lockpicking skill. The door barely offered any resistance. 

Rufus had left in a hurry – that was evident by the state of the place. The furniture was still there, but it almost looked like there’d been a break-in – or someone packing in a hurry – pushing furniture to the side and throwing things on the floor in the process. A “Closed for good” sign in the window, the opening times ripped off the door, pieces spread all over the floor. Small things missing. Mold growing in the coffee machine, which gave the impression of Rufus being gone for a while now. The place had been spotless the last time they had been there. Now there was dust in the corners, and the shop had that smell of abandonment that settles in when no one is around to keep it away.

“You think he ran because of us?” Sam asked. “Somehow knew we were coming?”

Dean walked around the shop, trying to find something, anything, that could tell them where Rufus had gone. “Don’t know how he could. We didn’t know we were going here when he left, from the looks of it.” He turned to Sam. “Can’t find anything to tell us why or where.” 

Sam sat down in the tattoo chair with a sigh. “What now?” 

This was yet another turn of events they hadn’t foreseen. It was frustrating, felt just like when Sam knew he’d seen the symbol, or something very close to it, before. Like the solution was right there, in front of them, and still kept eluding them, disappearing around a corner every time they closed in on it. 

Dean rubbed his face. “Thinking about getting religious.”

“What?” Sam said.

Dean paced back and forth, talking angrily. “I’m tired of this shit, Sammy. Demon blood. Angels going to war. Demons trying to buy me. You having nightmares about these things some asshole put on my back without asking. That stupid book leading nowhere. Everyone seems to have an agenda, pushing us, and I’m fucking over it.”

Sam didn’t think it was wise to comment on the fact that a demon had done more than tried to buy Dean’s services, and that they’d paid Rufus to do what he did. Dean wasn’t anxious about this, he was pissed. Better to wait and leave it alone; Dean knew these things just as well as him. He was just processing.

“Okay.” Dean said, drawing a deep breath. “I feel fucking stupid but… I pray to you Castiel, to get your feathery ass down here and tell me what the fuck this is going on!” 

The weird trench-coated creature materialized in the middle of the room. “What, Dean?” 

Castiel looked unkempt, pale with messy hair and a wrinkled shirt. Like someone had chased him out of his office and made him hide out in the streets. He wasn’t exactly striking fear in anyone’s heart but he’d proved he had powers like no monster they’d ever heard of. Sam watched him cautiously.

Dean’s wild eyes showed that he wasn’t fully prepared for the unconventional prayer to work, but he quickly collected himself, and when he spoke, his voice revealed no shock, but anger and frustration. 

“The guy who used to work here put some symbols on my back. Like the ones you drew for us.”

“Oh. Those.” Castiel looked around. He seemed to recognize the place and wonder what had happened to it. Like he’d been there before.

“Oh, those?” Dean asked. His voice was conveying a cold threat that the angel didn’t seem to pick up on at all. 

“You weren’t supposed to see them yet.” Castiel said, almost apologetic. “I didn’t think you would. I… tried to prevent it. Make you not see it.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Castiel, you better explain this right now” he said. The angel had absolutely no understanding of being smooth or telling people things in a strategic way. They probably didn’t teach human social skills in angel school. 

Castiel sighed. “I helped Rufus make those. They’re… meant for a hero. A leader.”

Dean took a step forward. “Let me get this right. You stalked me. Then you tricked some poor bastard into marking me with your angel-stamp. And now you think it’d be better if I never found out?” 

Castiel swallowed uneasily. “If they didn’t work… I didn’t want to worry you.”

Dean threw his arms in the air in exasperation. “Bang-up job, wing-monkey. How the fuck did you get Rufus to do it, anyway? He’s not an angel, is he?”

“No, Dean. He used to be a hunter. I told him what I’ve told you, and he wanted to help.” 

Castiel just stood there, like he was trying to appease Dean by his straight-forward answers. He spoke in a monotone and deep voice, not trying to explain himself but simply stating facts and waiting for the next question. It was hard to understand how he could’ve planned this whole scheme out, because right now, he didn’t seem to have any drive at all.

“Where is Rufus?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.” Castiel answered. 

“Of course, you don’t.” Dean said. “So, you talk to hunters a lot?” 

“Just you and Rufus. He was… is… special. He used to be one of my vessels. I could help him from the inside.”

“You were possessing him when we were here?” Dean said in that silky tone that was way more of a warning sign than his aggressive one.

“He was in control. I was just… helping.”

Sam decided to intervene and stop that line of inquiry. They now knew that Castiel was responsible for what Rufus had told them, and what he’d done to Dean. Strategically, it wasn’t a bad move having a human being interact with them, because Dean wouldn’t ever have let Castiel do what Rufus had done. Right now, Castiel was digging a hole for himself, though, and Sam wanted some answers of his own before this escalated further.

“Castiel, could they be dangerous? The tattoos?” Sam asked calmly. He successfully kept any fear or anger out of his voice. He wanted the truth, and letting the angel know how he really felt might make him more inclined to lie, even if he seemed unable to even slide on the truth when he answered questions. Or, he was a great liar, fooling both Winchesters.

“No, Sam. They’re supposed to give a true hero power, that’s all.”

Dean scoffed. “As far as you know. IF you’re not lying.” He shook his head. “And even if it’s true… power always comes at a price.” 

“I don’t lie.” the angel said, weirdly offended. “I’m an angel.”

Maybe Castiel meant that. His answers seemed childishly honest. But he’d played them, and keeping the truth away wasn’t too far from lying. Sam didn’t think they could trust the angel, who’d somehow tried to blind him from seeing what was right in front of him. What else had he done without telling them? 

“Whatever. I don’t feel any different, so maybe they don’t work anyway.” Dean said, shaking his head.

“They haven’t been activated.” Castiel said in a low voice. “You have to prove yourself to receive my Father’s gifts.” 

The look on Dean’s face was hard to read, even to Sam. “Killing monsters, ten years and counting, not enough for you? Don’t need another one of _those_ dads.”

“I don’t know what activates it, Dean.” The angel sighed and continued, in a sad voice. “I just wanted you to have all the strength you could have. I thought…”

Sam straightened his back and looked the angel in the eyes. “My brother is a hero, Castiel. If your stupid symbols don’t understand that, they’re wrong.” 

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t really care what these asshats or their stupid symbols think.” Then he took a deep breath, and Sam could see him decide they’d gotten the information and there was nothing to gain from arguing about what had been done to him. 

“Castiel, how about those weapons you were supposed to bring me?” Dean asked, changing the subject.

The angel seemed even more uneasy. “I have them. But I… hesitated to bring them to you. They’re used to kill my siblings, Dean, and I still don’t want them to die.” 

Dean laughed. A short, dark little laugh. “After the stunt you pulled, I might use them to kill you. Or find something else that does.” 

“There’s nothing else that does, Dean. I’ll give them to you. If you want to kill me… at least it’ll be over.” The enormous tiredness in his voice was heartbreaking. Sam couldn’t bring himself to believe it was faked, and he saw that Dean couldn’t, either. 

The angel sat down in a chair that used to belong to the little waiting area. He put his head in his hands and massaged his temples. It made Sam wonder if angels could get headaches. 

“Anything else you’d like to tell us?” Sam asked. 

“No. You know everything now.” Castiel said in a hollow tone.

“Sure, and you’ve never kept anything from us before.” Dean said. Even if his words were harsh, his anger had died down. The angel seemed depressed on the verge of suicidal and it took the edge off the resentment. 

Dean sighed and continued. “I’ll call for you when we get to Jody’s and you better bring them then. Now get lost.”

The angel nodded, stood up and disappeared with a flutter of invisible wings. Sam couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even if the tattoos still made him feel anxious. Dean had said that power came at a price, and Sam was afraid this might be what his dream had been about. What would they do to Dean if they were ever activated? He knew this would be on his mind until they got more answers, but right now, they had to figure the next step out. Keep those worries as far away as possible.

“Jody’s?” Sam asked.

“We need to regroup, Sammy. And I promised her to get you there for your birthday.” Dean started to walk to the door. “Let’s go. I need to drive for a while.”


	28. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters meet someone new and Dean has to fess up to some things.

They arrived at Jody’s as the sun set. It’d been a long drive, both Winchesters taking turns at the wheel. Jody, Claire and Charlie came out to greet them the second they parked, dropping jaws when they saw Sam in the driver’s seat. Jody knew Sam was a good driver – she’d taught him – but it was clear she had never expected that to be good enough for his big brother. She wasn’t wrong about that, but at least Dean had stopped complaining constantly. 

“Are you hurt?” Jody asked Dean as he got out of the car. She looked worried, searching for serious injuries. Something that would make Dean unable to drive.

“No.” Dean grumbled. “The little weasel got a birthday wish. Baby has two drivers now.”

The girls laughed. Charlie and Claire hadn’t known the Winchesters for very long, but Dean’s love for that car was hard to miss. Jody laughed, too. A dry, warm laugh. She hugged Dean and whispered something in his ear which made him laugh and lift her from the ground, giving her a little twirl. Right then it was hard to believe Dean Winchester had made a career out of killing monsters – and people. Then Jody hugged Sam, making him feel warm and welcome. Like he had a family again, one that wanted to celebrate his birthday. That was something Sam had expected about as much as he’d expected to be killing monsters on a regular basis a year ago. 

When Jody let him go, they both saw the house door open. Jody quickly turned to Dean. “He’s just like that, Dean, okay? Go easy on him, would you?” she said, gave the older Winchester’s shoulder a quick pat. 

“What?” Dean said with a confused face, one that quickly changed into shock when his arms suddenly were full of scrawny teenager. A lot scrawnier than Sam had ever been. 

“Hi Dean! I’ve heard so much about you!” the odd-looking boy said, smiling from ear to ear. Before Dean had time to decide how to react, the little guy had bounced over to Sam and was giving him the same treatment. 

“Sam! You look so much better than in your picture!” he said. Sam felt a little bit less awkward about this treatment than Dean, but it was still weird for him.

“And you are?” he asked, as he got out of the unwanted hug with a slightly uncomfortable smile.

“Garth. I’m Garth. Jody was kind enough to give me a home. And now I get to celebrate your birthday, Sam! It will be so much fun.” the kid said, reminding of a puppy wagging its tail until it almost falls over. 

Dean gave Jody a look. “He hit his head or something?”

Jody shrugged and smiled. “Garth is… Garth. He’s a little much from time to time, but he grows on you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Dean said, not convinced, and turned to hug Charlie, lifted her from the ground and kissed her on the head. “Hiya, Char. You been good?” 

Charlie gave him a big smile and hugged him back. “Always. I’m not stuck here every day now, been a long time since my face was on the news.” 

“Oh” Dean said and winked at her. “And that works out just fine for you, doesn’t it?”

“You know it” Charlie laughed. 

As they walked up to the house, Jody told them Pamela had moved out. Being so close to all those survivors was too much for her since she couldn’t stop seeing and feeling what they had seen and felt. But she had a message for Dean. Listen to Sam’s voice. Dean shrugged. 

“Always do, Jodes. As far as advice goes, that’s completely useless.”

Sam smiled at the reminder that his brother listened to him, really listened, and had since Sam was a baby. Nobody else had, not ever. Dean had always known and cared about what Sam thought and wanted. His opinion had always been considered, and right now, Sam wasn’t as quick to dismiss the message as his brother was.

“Why would she say listen to my voice, not to what I have to say, Dean?”

“Who knows, sweetness… Psychics are vague on purpose. Makes’em sound all mysterious.”

Jody sighed. “Agreed, kid. But I think Pamela’s the real deal. She’s proved that more than once.”

When they entered the kitchen, Dean made a disappointed face. 

“Pizza? Really? Jodes, I’ve been looking forward to eating your food for the last hour!”

“We’ve been busy, kid, building a fucking fort here. Between your angel and Pamela’s weird visions, I think we need it.” Jody sounded tired.

“Pizza will be just fine, Jody.” Sam said, putting one hand on her shoulder. 

She smiled gratefully, putting her hand on top of his in a loving gesture, and continued. “I’ve got new kids flooding in, and they all seem to break things for a hobby.” She looked at Charlie and Claire, getting plates out of the cupboards. “If it wasn’t for my girls, I’d never be able to handle everything.”

“Considering you busted me out of the nuthouse, and then gave me a home, I’ll owe you, like, forever.” Charlie said. “And we love you, you know”

Her lighthearted demeanor lit up the room, giving them all a solid reminder of the good things in life. Everything about her, from her t-shirt that read "Join the dork side, we have pi" to her warm smile, was bright and comforting. Maybe she’d chosen the t-shirt with Dean in mind, because she made sure to show it to him with playful wink. 

Claire didn’t say anything, but she nodded and started to open the stack of pizza cartons. Jody hadn’t lied about how overcrowded the house had become – they were too many to fit around the table. Some of them had to eat at the kitchen counter, but nobody complained. The newest arrivals were easy to spot, quiet and still in shock, but they were taken care of by the rest of the motley family.

An hour later, full and in a good mood, Sam and Dean carried their bags down to the cellar room that Jody had kept empty for them. Jody followed them, and Sam could sense she had an agenda.

“I have a question for you, kid.” Jody looked worried. 

By the look on his face, Dean picked up on the tone of her voice immediately. “What, Jodes?”

“Didn’t want to worry anyone upstairs, but I would like to know how this Crowley keeps finding you. Don’t the symbols work? That would mean Rufus, and Castiel, lied to us.”

Dean had kept Jody in the loop, but some details had been conveniently left out. The ones he wasn’t especially keen on sharing. When she’d closed in on them on the phone, Dean had managed to maneuver himself out of answering. Now, he just shrugged and busied himself with unpacking. Dean never unpacked. Didn’t take a genius to see he was trying to get out of the conversation.

“Dean?” Jody said. “What aren’t you sharing with the class?”

“Don’t worry about it, Jody.” Dean said, outright refusing to answer the question. Sam made an educated guess that he’d done that plenty of times before and that Jody only tolerated it because the only other option would be losing Dean.

“Dean, we have your back here, working our asses off. I think you owe us the truth” Jody said, turning to Sam. This time she had a Winchester who wouldn’t lie to her, or brush her off, in the room. “Sam?”

Sam sighed. “She’s right, Dean. I think you should tell her.”

Dean turned back to them, and he clearly disliked Sam’s take on the situation. That glare would scare a lot of people into leaving him alone. Not Sam, or Jody, though.

“Sam, why don’t you stay out of this?” he growled. 

Sam didn’t say anything. He knew his brother was very close to storm out or tell them to fuck off. Or both. Probably both. But love isn’t always the thing that sets you free; this time, love made Dean resist the fight-or-flight response. Sam saw it happen and felt Jody squeezing his hand in gratefulness. He knew she loved Dean like her own, and he loved her back – but he’d had no problems with telling her whatever was easiest for him. Not until now.

“Listen to your voice, right? Fine.” he said, sank down on the bed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushed the anger down. “He hired me, okay, Jodes? Didn’t know it was him.”

Jody’s hand flew to her mouth. She let Sam’s hand go and sat down next to Dean on the bed. 

“A demon paid you to kill someone?” she said in a strained voice. 

Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, his silence and the look on his face spoke volumes. She put her arm around him. “I’m so sorry, kid.”

Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Not my greatest moment.”

“At least we know for sure the symbols work, Dean.” 

Jody could have reminded Dean she’d told him for years that he couldn’t know the people he killed weren’t innocent, not when he didn’t even know the clients. That it was a lie John had fed him that he kept holding on to. She didn’t, and Sam was immensely grateful for it. His brother didn’t need to hear that, it was painful enough admitting it’d been a lie. It wasn’t likely demons had hired him before, but it wasn’t entirely impossible either.

Jody ruffled Dean’s hair, reassuring him he was her “kid” no matter who Crowley had tricked him into killing. Then she seemed to think about something, something that she didn’t like at all. 

“Dean?” Jody said carefully. “Is there… another reason you let Sam drive?”

Dean shrugged her arm off and got up. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he said. 

Jody looked at Sam with the same question all over her face. What she wanted to know was if his brother had been sober enough to drive the days after what’d happened. Sam glanced at Dean’s tense back and then shook his head. Dean didn’t want to talk about this even when the news was good; letting Jody know what he’d promised Sam meant admitting he’d had a problem. Sam decided that instead of having Jody pestering Dean for an answer, he’d give it to her. 

“He’s been fine to drive.” After a short moment of hesitation, he showed Jody the little key he got on a string around his neck. “I’d know otherwise.”

Jody hugged Sam roughly, almost choked him. “If that’s true…” she said with a voice thick with tears. She understood what the key meant. 

“I don’t lie to Sammy.” Dean said. His voice was weary. These kinds of things were hard for him. “Now, if you two don’t mind, I’ll take a shower and go to bed.”

“Sure, kid. And you know I’ll always be on your side” Jody said, still very emotional. Sam didn’t know how many years Jody had been worried about Dean using, but he had a feeling it’d been for a long time. 

“Are we okay, Dean?” Sam asked as Dean was leaving the room. He’d pushed his brother into this, and he hoped Dean could forgive him for it. Jody was right, with everything she was willing to do for them, she deserved the truth. And Sam didn’t want her to worry over something when there was no need. But that didn’t mean he had the right to make decisions for his brother who did nothing but take care of him. 

At first, Dean didn’t answer, even if he stopped. Then he sighed. “Yeah. Just give me a minute, Sammy.” 

Sam said good night to Jody and went to bed, waiting for Dean to do the same. When he did, he let Sam snuggle up close and whispered in his ear. 

“You’re a pain in the ass, baby bro.”

“You still love me?” Sam whispered back. 

“Always, sweetness. Even when it hurts.”


	29. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's birtday!

The day Sam turned eighteen, he’d thought he’d wake up thinking about how every muscle would ache getting out of bed. Staying in one place for a few days was, according to Dean, an opportunity to crank up their work-out-routine, and after that came an endless list of things to fix around the house. Sam was happy to do it, loved helping out. It felt good falling into bed too tired to see straight, and he didn’t mind waking up stiff and sore. 

This morning, he didn’t notice he was. He woke himself up with a little moan of pleasure, because his big brother had his perfect lips around his dick. That wasn’t on the menu very often and it was unbelievably amazing to wake up to. It took Sam a minute to remember where he was and that he should probably try not to make too loud noises. That was about to get very hard; Dean’s tongue was finding all the right spots and, looking down, those lips wrapped around him was enough for Sam to writhe and whimper. He bucked his hips up mindlessly and was surprised that Dean let him. That surprise didn’t register for long though because Dean taking him even deeper, welcoming him thrusting up into his mouth, vanquished every thought except for fuck this feels so good so fucking good. It didn’t take long for Sam to explode in an orgasm that shook his entire body, trying to muffle his screams in a pillow, almost immediately. 

“Morning, sunshine” Dean said and crawled back up to cuddle, one warm hand on Sam’s heaving chest. 

“That… was… fucking… amazing” Sam panted. “I need a minute before I can…”

“Already did myself, too, honey” Dean murmured in his ear. “I’m good at multi-tasking and you only turn eighteen once.”

First, Sam was disappointed, but that passed quickly. He felt like jelly all over. It was nice to just lie here, cuddling, after the best way of waking up he could ever imagine. 

“Dean, I…” he started, turning over to find that little nook where his head fit perfectly. 

“I know” Dean said. “I’m awesome. Don’t expect this to be a recurring event, though.”

Sam didn’t, and however awesome it’d been, and he wasn’t sure he’d want it to be. It was nice having some things stay special. Maybe it would turn into a birthday tradition. Yeah, he liked that thought. They just laid there for about twenty minutes, Dean lazily tracing every line and curve of his body with those magical fingers of his. It was heaven. 

“Okay, enough. Let’s see what the others have planned for you, babe” Dean finally said. He tipped Sam over and got out of bed. “Just need a shower and some new clothes.” 

When they got to the kitchen to have morning coffee, Jody was waiting for them with Charlie and Claire – and a cake. They started singing, and before they were done, several of Jody’s new extra family members joined them. Sam almost blushed, grinning with joy. The cake looked kind of odd, but that didn’t matter. 

“Garth made the cake.” Jody laughed. “We’ll see how it tastes.” 

Turned out, it tasted a lot better than it looked which made Garth giddy with pride and joy. That kid was weird, but he did grow on you. All that enthusiasm was heartfelt and real and that was a very rare thing in the harsh world of a hunter. Not even Dean could help but smile at that kind of open-heartedness. 

Two of the recent arrivals, both teenage girls, giggled and blushed every time they looked at Dean. He was dressed in old worn-down, ripped jeans and an off-white tank top with an obscure band logo. Nothing special, except Dean knew exactly what he looked like and had chosen his outfit carefully. Those jeans said that he’d worked hard to get an ass like that and he planned to show it off, and they fit his characteristic bow-legs perfectly. Dean used to stick to t-shirts, but he wasn’t dressed for comfort today (even if it might look like it), he was dressed for Sam, wrapping himself up as a gift. And it worked – Dean in a tank top was almost making Sam beg him to come downstairs again.

Just as they were about to finish cake for breakfast, a car rolled up to the house and a man knocked on the door, a hunter looking for a few nights in a safe house. That happened from time to time, hunters asking Jody for refuge, and she never turned them down. 

“Okay, we’re kind of crowded, but I’ll find you a bed.” she said.

The visiting hunter immediately went to rest up, thanking Jody for taking him in. He promised no one was coming after him (sometimes hunters turned up with the police not far behind) and was soon forgotten by all of them, enjoying the celebration of Sam turning eighteen. This day was everything Sam could’ve wished for, including a shortish lunch break with his attentive big brother, giving him what he wanted and then some. In the afternoon Jody cooked for hours, shooing Dean, trying to taste everything, out of the kitchen. 

“Out, Winchester!”

“Sure, Jodes.” Dean said, making sure he got a few things with him on the way out. Charlie giggled at their good-natured banter. 

The birthday dinner Jody finally served them, with Charlie’s clumsy but well-meant help, and the company that came with it, was everything his last birthdays hadn’t been. The feeling of belonging, being a part of something bigger, was strange but amazing to Sam. 

“You having a good time, babe?” Dean whispered half way through.

“That’s an understatement.” Sam whispered back. “I didn’t know I wanted this so much.”

Dean smirked. “Love you, sweetness, but you are kind of stupid sometimes.”

Dean had known, of course, pushing him into this. Sam had been a bit afraid it wouldn’t feel like they wanted to celebrate him, maybe did it for Dean’s sake, because he still had problems trusting other people actually liked him enough for something like this to be real. Even if logic told him Jody and the girls did, but those lonely years had scarred him, making it hard to trust that knowledge. The last bit of that old mistrust died right there and then, drowned in the smiles and happy buzz surrounding him. When they finally got to dessert, and the visiting hunter had joined them, it was quite late. Sam thought the night couldn’t get any better. It could.

“Charlie?” Dean said, finished his beer and got up, finding a spot against the wall where they all could see him. 

The red-head flashed him a giddy smile. “It’s time?” Charlie went out in the other room and returned seconds later, carrying her bass and amp.

“So, Sammy… I thought I’d sing a little something” Dean said. Jody and the kids made noise, whistling and clapping their hands. Claire did too, sitting next to Sam, today known as “birthday boy”, slipping an affectionate arm around him. 

Dean smiled at them and continued, winking at Sam. “Just for you, turning eighteen and all.”

Sam felt a stupid grin reach his face. He loved it when Dean sang to him. None of the gifts Dean gave cost a dime, but they were worth more than anything else in the entire world. 

“If anyone tries to film this, they’ll regret it.” Dean said, making sure they knew he meant it. Then he cleared his throat, getting ready to sing. 

Charlie started to play. It wasn’t any of the songs from Dean’s cassette tapes. That made Sam smile even more, his stubborn classic rock-brother finding something else to sing, choosing something just for him. Sam thought he’d heard the song before, but he wasn’t sure. A glance at Jody told Sam she knew what song it was. She smiled, but she also looked around at the new kids and the visiting hunter, like she was wondering what they’d think. 

_“Mmmmmm”_ Dean began to sing. That hoarse, deep voice of his made everyone in the room fall quiet and leave their phones alone, which was impressive in a room full of teenagers.

_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine_  
_I keep my eyes wide open all the time_  
_I keep the ends out for the tie that binds_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_

This wasn’t just a song, it was a love declaration, a promise. Nobody ever thought Dean would stay more than one night with anyone, and this was him reminding Sam he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever. Sam felt the warmth spread out inside, feeling the love that dark, raspy voice conveyed.

_I find it very, very easy to be true_  
_I find myself alone when each day is through_  
_Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_

Charlie smiled at Sam, looking cute and hot at the same time playing bass. In another life, Sam might’ve tried to flirt with her. She knew, Sam could tell, knew what and how much this meant coming from Dean. And she was happy for them, which made Sam even happier. This night couldn’t get any better now. It was perfect. 

_You've got a way to keep me on your side_  
_You give me cause for love that I can't hide_  
_For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide_

Charlie didn’t grasp everything though, because when Sam touched the small key hanging from his necklace, Dean gave him a barely noticeable nod. This wasn’t just a total chick-flick-moment, it was also a renewal of Dean’s promise to do everything he could to stay away from drugs. The only thing that worried Sam a little bit was all the new kids, and Kubrick, the visiting hunter, and the part “that I can’t hide”. What would they think of this? He soon forgot that, though, it drowned in the voice and the message that were his and his alone.

_Because you're mine, I walk the line_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_  
_Oh, because you're mine, I walk the line_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_  
_Because you're mine, I walk the line_

He hadn’t needed to be worried about Kubrick, because when Dean was done, the visiting hunter stood up and offered him a whiskey. “You’re good” he said, giving Dean a rough pat on the shoulder. The others applauded, and whistles were filling the air. Dean and Charlie bowed and laughed, and got talked into doing one more song, naturally the one Dean had sung to Sam at his own party. Nothing else matters. It wasn’t as easily done with only a bass, but they pulled it off. 

When Dean had sung the first verse, Claire whispered to Sam, in a voice that was strained with emotion, “How did you get him to do that?”

Sam was confused. “Get him to do what? Sing?”

“No. I know what Dean was like before…” Claire’s voice trailed off. 

The rawness in her voice caught Sam’s attention even through Dean singing. “What are you talking about, Claire?”

“How did you make him want only you?” she whispered, close to crying. Claire had always had an attitude, pretending to be a lot tougher than she actually was, but now she was letting him see a whole different side of her. One he’d only glimpsed in their online conversations. 

“I didn’t _make him_ , Claire, he just…” Sam was deeply concerned. He and Claire had been texting almost every day, sharing personal things like their mutual problems with anxiety, but this was news to him. “You want someone to be yours alone?”

Claire didn’t answer, but her eyes wandered in a very telling way. The lighthearted redhead, always joking around with his brother… Sam finally understood. The “project” Charlie had had in this house. The way getting to leave the premises “worked out fine” for her. Charlie was a female version of the younger Dean, before he’d met Sam. And Claire wanted more than that, more than what Charlie was ready to give. 

“Sorry, Sam. It’s your birthday, should never have said anything.” Claire said, swallowed and put her tough face back on. 

“That’s fine, Claire, I just wish I could…”

“Me too, Sam. Let’s listen to the song now.” Claire said, making it clear she didn’t want to talk anymore. Sam knew he wouldn’t let this go, but he also knew now wasn’t the time. He sighed and got back to listening to Dean, who sure as hell would ask him what that had been about later. He was very observant, his brother, but Sam was pretty sure he hadn’t caught up on how badly Charlie was hurting Claire. Maybe they could help somehow. But not right now. 

The song was a perfect ending to a nearly perfect day, only interrupted by Claire’s confession. The brothers went to bed pretty soon after that, Sam wanting nothing more than being held by his brother after listening to him sing, Dean’s fingers lazily making circles on his belly, Dean’s breath in his hair. He felt like the luckiest eighteen-year-old in the history of time. Even more so after thinking about what it would’ve been like if his brother hadn’t decided Sam could have all of him, for as long as he wanted, even if Dean didn’t understand the need for monogamy. He was so grateful his heart almost burst.


	30. Gone, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is gone and Dean has to make a difficult decision. 
> 
> This one would never have been finished without zombieutopia who makes invaluable suggestions and comments. Thank you!!

Dean Winchester felt a smile getting lost somewhere between sleep and waking. He knew there was something to smile about but he couldn’t remember what, and when he tried to force the memory out of hiding the nausea rolled in. The room was spinning, which kind of worried him, even if it wasn’t the first time he’d woken up just like this. When he opened his eyes and tried to focus, realizing he was at Jody’s, the worry grew a lot worse. Why would he… he’d never, not at Jody’s. He reached for his little brother, but Sam wasn’t there. Dean was alone in bed, and his brother might hate him right now for doing exactly what Sam had begged him never to do again. 

The thought of what he’d promised and the anxiety from not knowing what the fuck had happened finally shook some memory fragments loose. Yesterday, he’d renewed that promise. _Yesterday._ Because… Sam’s birthday had been yesterday. They’d had a long, awesome dinner, and he’d sung that song. A cold panic made the nausea a hundred times worse. _Why the fuck would I do this after a night like that?_

Dean tried to force his fuzzy mind to sort out what had happened, but his thoughts raced too fast for him to follow. When he got out of bed, his stomach lurched and he had to use the walls to support him on the way to the bathroom. It took him a while to empty his stomach. He tried to figure out what the fuck was happening to him as his body fought hard to purge itself of whatever poison he'd subjected it to. He took a few breaths and managed to scrape himself off the floor, get his jeans and a t-shirt on, almost hurling again when he had to bend down to get dressed, and climb the stairs. Stumbling into the kitchen, he shocked Jody, Claire and Charlie who were up early getting breakfast ready for the kids. They stared at him as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Dean, what the hell happened to you?” Jody said. 

Dean ignored the question. He had more pressing issues. “Where’s Sam?” he tried to say, barely able get the words out in a rough, hoarse voice. 

“He’s not downstairs with you?” Claire asked. Her expression told him he looked about as good as he felt.

“No.” Dean said, taking a few steps and sinking down on a chair, almost missing it. “What the fuck did I do?” he mumbled to himself. 

Jody sat down next to him. “Dean, the last I saw of you, both of you were heading downstairs. And you weren’t sober, but you were far from drunk. Now you look like…”

Dean looked up at her, the situation finally starting to scare his thoughts into something resembling logic. 

“I feel like, Jody. And I wouldn’t…” He got back up and stumbled out of the kitchen. “Find Sam!” 

It wasn’t a question, it was an order. Without a word, both Jody and the girls started searching the house and then they ran outside to look for him there. The only thing they found out was that Sam hadn’t taken the Impala. Even if the car had been gone, Dean wouldn’t have believed Sam left willingly, not even if he’d broken every promise he’d ever made. At least not without leaving a note or sending a text. 

No way demons could enter the house. Angels, if Castiel had lied and they could get in, probably wouldn’t need to drug him. Must have been a human. It felt like he should know who, but it was hidden in the foggy nothingness between the shards of memories from the day before.

Dean almost panicked to the point of freezing up. His brother was gone, and it had happened on his watch. He tried to sort through what he knew, but he just couldn’t; his mind wouldn’t let him. One thought pushed through the haze, though. He was worthless in his current state, and he had to fix that. Now. He set his eyes on the Impala and made himself walk there, realizing he’d never pick any lock with his hands trembling like this. He used a screwdriver to break into the box. 

Jody had followed him, the girls not far behind. She instantly knew what he was about to do. “No, Dean, please, Sam wouldn’t want you to…”

“Sam needs me to find him. _Back. Off.”_

This time, he wasn’t trying to make her leave him alone, he made sure she would. Jody knew him better than anyone, except for Sam and John, but she’d never seen him this threatening. If he’d been more clear-minded, he’d feel terrible for doing this to her. Right now, all that registered was that later on he’d feel bad about this, and worse about the look on Charlie’s and Claire’s faces, suddenly scared of him. Jody took a few steps back. 

“Go inside.” Dean snarled at her. She turned around and quietly took the girls with her inside, arms around their shoulders. 

He quickly found the bottle he was looking for, impatiently emptying it of pills down into the box. Then he got the little plastic bag filled with pink powder, hidden beneath them, out. 

_“Got a gift for you, man. My own recipe.”_

_“What’s in it, Ash?”_

_“One hell of a kick. Emergencies only. It’ll get you going, no matter what. Kills anything else.”_

This was an emergency of the worst kind. The kind he’d thought about when he’d said _I can’t do never._ And he did _not_ have time to sober up the hard way. It would be hours, maybe the entire day, before he could do anything at all. Maybe his brother didn’t have that long. It didn’t matter what he’d promised yesterday, not if Sam wasn’t alive to be disappointed and heartbroken. 

_“Please stay sober for me.”_ Sam’s voice echoed in his head. 

”Sorry, Sammy, sweetness, but I can’t. What else am I supposed to do here?” Dean whispered, leaning on the Impala. 

Then he reached for what Ash had given him on his birthday. This could be a real bad move, mixing whatever was in his body with an unknown drug, but even if Ash was crazy he knew his shit. Dean trusted that enough to risk it. He pushed all the hesitation down and with trembling fingers he slowly opened the plastic bag, concentrated on not spilling, made that the only thought allowed in his head. It was the only way. 

Snorting the powder gave an immediate effect. It was like he’d been thrown in ice cold water, muscles shivering on the way to cramping up. His knees almost gave out, and he had to lean on the Impala not to fall over. Then it felt like he was electrocuted, and he was down on the ground with a low thud that started echoing in his head. A few seconds later, it was like the world got clearer, sharper. His mind kicked back into gear, and he regained control over his body. Looking around, he’d never been able to concentrate on every single detail around him like he did with that powder surging through his body. It took him a few seconds to get used to the feeling. _What the fuck is that, Ash, it sure as hell isn’t like any drug I have ever heard of_ , Dean thought, running back to the house. 

That hunter from yesterday. Kubrick. His car was gone and he certainly hadn’t had any trouble entering Jody’s house. Must be him. A hunter, or so he’d said. Someone Dean had trusted enough to accept a celebratory whiskey from. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Inside, he walked straight back to the kitchen, where Jody and Claire solemnly watched the kids having breakfast while Charlie was doing something on her laptop. He’d caught a glimpse of Jody on her way out to check on him and then turning around when he got back up, so he knew she’d been spying on him through the window. When he entered the room Jody and the girls barely looked at him. He ignored that, just as he ignored the kids who ran up to their rooms without one word. He’d scared them, too. 

“Kubrick’s room.” 

The way he barked at her made Jody flinch, but her voice was steady. “Claire already checked his room. Doesn’t look like he slept there and all his stuff is gone.” 

“Cameras, Jody. Now.” 

“I’ve got it here, Dean.” Charlie’s voice was far from steady, and her characteristic lightheartedness was nowhere to be seen as she turned the laptop so he could watch what she’d found. 

The security footage confirmed his conclusion. Sam was walking out of the house on his own, next to Kubrick. His brother was visibly on high alert, but still unprepared for Kubrick to betray him. The older hunter suddenly shot him with a taser gun. Sam fell to the ground and was carried off to the black van. Dean felt the urge to break things, or faces, but kept it together. No time for that now. 

“Charlie. Plates.” 

The young red-head immediately went to work, zooming in on the security footage of the license plate. Once the number was clear enough to read she switched her focus to running it through her databases, trying to find any information she could, fingers trembling as she typed rapidly in silence. She was pale and couldn't seem to bring herself to look at him. Dean had always been able to make her laugh, feel comfortable, treated her like the little sister he considered her to be. But now, she seemed terrified of him, as if he were someone else entirely. Someone she didn't know and was very definitely scared of. 

“Jody. Put the word out we want to find Kubrick. And find out what you can about that fucking asshole.” 

“Dean, I…” 

Dean met her eyes without a word. He could _feel_ how his icy stare made cold chills travel down her spine. He’d scared enough people to be familiar with that look. 

“Do what I say, or I’ll find Sammy on my own.” He wasn’t trying to be threatening, only stating the facts, but right now it might be hard to spot the difference. If there was one. 

Jody nodded and went to start making calls. She looked over her shoulder just as she was about to leave the room and hesitated for a moment. Dean saw what she was thinking. 

“They’ll be fine, Jody. Go!” Knowing she was afraid to leave him alone with the girls would hurt. Later. 

Naturally, the plates were stolen and led nowhere, but Charlie hacked CCTV and traffic cams along every road Kubrick could’ve taken. It took her a little while, but she found the van running a red light just as Jody returned. 

“Dean, I need to talk to you.” Jody said. 

“Listening.” Dean said, watching the footage of Kubrick at the wheel, Sam no doubt in the back. 

“I’ve put the word out. Kubrick, he… he used to be friendly with Gordon. Walker.” 

That made Dean turn slowly to her. 

“You really should be more careful with who you let in here!” he growled. Then he shook his head. Even now, he knew Jody didn’t deserve that. “Sorry. Any other friends?” 

“Yeah, apparently he’s been hunting with this Adrianna who lives a few towns over from here. I’ve been trying to call her, but she doesn’t answer.” 

“Keep calling.” Dean said. “I’m going to follow the van. You keep looking, Charlie, let me know where to go next.” 

He walked out the door and nobody tried to stop him, not even to ask if he was okay to drive. They’d gotten the message: No use talking to him right now. He walked to the Impala, sorting through his memory. This Adrianna was unknown to him as far as he could remember, and he knew most hunters in a large area around here. Seemed there’d been a little group of them that wasn’t close with the bigger community, maybe a group where John had spewed his poisonous propaganda about his own goddamn sons. Or it was someone… or something… else, using Kubrick to get what they wanted. He had one more thing to try to find out more about that. 

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel, get down here, wing-monkey.” 

Castiel had been there to leave the weapons and the oil he’d gotten for them before Sam’s birthday. It’d been a short visit because Dean didn’t want him around. He’d been sent off to keep an eye on his siblings or whatever the fuck he was doing when he wasn’t around with the only specific order not to try and “help” anymore. 

“I’m here.” Castiel said, showing up right before his eyes. He gazed at Dean and tilted his head in confusion. “You look… different.” 

“Not important. This guy called Kubrick kidnapped Sam and I want to know if angels are pulling his strings.” 

“Angels would never…” Castiel started but didn’t finish the sentence. He seemed to remember his siblings weren’t what he’d thought they were, and he hung his head. “I’ll find out whatever I can.” 

“Good. Go.” Dean turned to get into the car, not wasting any time on conversation. The angel watched him leave and then he disappeared again. 

Driving to get to the cam that had caught the van, Dean had only one line of thought in his mind. He had to find Sam, and now. And then he was going to have a conversation with Kubrick, who’d been stupid enough to give his real name (or a least the name other hunters knew him by). Kubrick wouldn’t live that long but he’d certainly have time to regret what he’d done. 

It didn’t take him more than forty-five minutes to get to the last known location of the van, and by then Charlie had new information about where to go. They played that game until late afternoon, when Dean was catching up fast. Then Charlie said that the van seemed to disappear between two cams, meaning Kubrick must have driven into the woods, on some dirt road not marked on the map. It turned out there were several of those to choose from, and a frenzied hunt for the right one started. Charlie was searching all roads on the other sides of the forest, trying to find the van again. Maybe Kubrick knew a way through. 

Several hours later, after another hit of the pink powder and some reckless driving on dirt roads that ensured Baby would need a thorough wash, he found it. It was parked by the side of the road, and that made Dean’s heart sink. He had no expectations of finding Sam inside and he was right. They must have switched cars and he had no idea to what. He desperately searched the van but didn’t find any clues where Kubrick might have taken Sam. Nothing. He slammed the car door shut and called Charlie. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, we got nothing.” Charlie didn’t even say hi, she just answered the question she knew he’d ask. 

Dean hung up without a word; there was nothing to say. With great effort he managed to resist flinging the phone to hell and tried his next call. 

“Castiel, come down, I pray to you.” 

“Dean. I couldn’t find anything about Sam,” the angel said as he appeared, “I’m sorry.” 

The exasperation coming from hitting one dead end after another made him yell and kick the fucking van, driving his fist into it so hard he nearly broke his knuckles. He heard himself scream in fear and frustration and had to fight hard to stop and regain control. The drugs made him see things clearer, but they did nothing to calm him down. 

By now it was getting dark fast. He took a deep breath. Sam didn’t have time for him to lose it like this. 

“I could heal your hand…” Castiel started to say. 

Dean had his back against the angel; hadn’t even realized Castiel was still there. “Get lost.” 

“But, I…” 

“Get. Lost.” 

And then he was alone again. Since the only lead he had was this friend of Kubrick’s, who still didn’t answer her phone, he drove off to go see her. He knew Charlie would keep looking but he couldn’t just sit there and wait, he had to do something even if it was going to be an all-night-drive. _Thanks, Ash,_ he thought. _At least I’ll be able to stay awake for as long as I have to._


	31. Gone, part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New tags!
> 
> Dean has to make hard choices in the hunt for Sam. 
> 
> Oh, and hi, new (and old) subscribers! Always puts a smile on my face when someone chooses to follow my little story (okay, not so little anymore) or leaves a comment.

Dean parked outside Adrianna’s house by sunrise. He’d been awake for close to twenty-four hours, going at full speed after being drugged and eaten nothing except left-overs he found in the car… but the Ash-X, as he called it in his mind, kept energy vibrating violently inside him. He walked up to her door. Right when he was about to knock, he figured she might try to run if she knew what her friend had done. Why Kubrick would leave him alive when he could just as well have killed him was a mystery. He had to have known Dean would come after him. Dean had a quick look around and then he disabled the alarm and picked the lock. It was a bit tricky, a hunter’s house and all, but he made the door see things his way and snuck into the house, putting a hood and ski mask on. If she didn’t know who he was, it was better if it stayed that way.

It was quiet inside. Dean walked cautiously, without making a sound, and found Adrianna asleep in the bedroom. He sat down next to her on the bed and watched her wake up at the movement, first noticing the masked man glaring down at her than immediately taking in the knife pressed firmly against her throat. She was a hunter alright, glared right back at him and suppressed any fear. He made her sit up in the bed, keeping the knife on her.

“What do you want?” Her voice was filled with anger and just the slightest hint of fear.

“Kubrick.” Dean answered. “Everything you know.”

She swallowed and Dean could see her trying to figure him out. She hadn’t known someone might come after her, but she did know he was a serious threat to her, that much he could tell right away. Dean knew how people worked in these situations, and he was convinced he’d get her to talk, hunter or not, even if she didn’t think he would. Yet. 

“What makes you think I know anything about this Kubrick?”

He didn’t have time for games, but it seemed one had to be played. _Better make it a fast one, then_ , he thought. Five minutes later Adrianna was tied up in a kitchen chair with tape over her mouth. Dean had closed the curtains in the living room before he’d entered the bedroom, so they were safe from neighbors spotting them. He’d made sure she didn’t have a chance to break loose.

“Look, Adrianna, I don’t have time for this. I know I’ll get you to talk.” He whispered, silky voice in her ear, letting her feel the cold calm that promised her that he wasn’t joking around and that he wouldn’t make any mistakes. “I’ve done this before.”

She said something angry and undistinguishable, muffled by the tape. Dean sighed, like he was bored, and almost lazily hit her hard enough to tip the chair over. Her shoulder hit the floor with a painful thud. When he’d lifted her back into an upright position, he drove a fist into her gut, and as she tried to get air into her lungs with the tape over her mouth, he broke her nose to top it off. Difficulty to breathe should cause panic. This time, he stopped the chair from tipping over. If she hit the back of her head, she might pass out, and he wanted her talking. 

He knew Sam wouldn’t like his way of handling this, but the thought of his little brother maybe going through something similar to what he did to Adrianna was putting a stop to any second thoughts. 

“That’s how you wanna play this?” Dean said, forcing his voice to be calm and collected. 

He showed her the gun, fastened the silencer deliberately slow before her eyes. Blood came down from her eyebrow and her nose, but she still glared at him looking like she wanted to kill him. Which she probably did. But it wouldn’t last, he’d break her sooner or later. _I need it to be sooner_ , Dean thought. 

“One in each knee, maybe feet, then elbows.” Dean did a little shrug, like her choice didn’t really matter to him. “Or you talk.”

She nodded, but when he ripped the tape off, she spit in his face, and managed to get two words out. 

“Fuck. You.” 

Blood and saliva was soaking through the mask he was wearing. He really didn’t want to go through with his threat, but she didn’t give him any choice. She could be an innocent in this and what he was going to do wasn’t something he’d like Sam, or anyone else, to know about. But he’d do it anyway. Sam didn’t have time for him to go slow.

He put the tape back, put the gun to her knee, looked her straight in the eye and pulled the trigger. Then he pointed it at the other knee, seemingly to shoot her again. She stopped him, shaking her head violently and making loud noises, probably meaning _“No, wait!”_. She’d gotten the message. He wouldn’t stop. 

“I don’t know much.” Adrianna said in a broken voice after Dean yanked the tape off a second time, making the skin around her mouth turn reddish. “He’s been strange lately, stopped talking to me about a month ago.”

Dean felt frustration and fear welling up, because he could see she was telling the truth, and that he wouldn’t get much out of her no matter what he did.

“You know any place he’d go if he needed to be safe?”

Adrianna swallowed. “Maybe,” she said, “he’s got this safehouse, but it’s at least two days east of here.” 

Dean turned his back to her. Two days was a long way to drive after a kidnapping, and from Jody’s, it’d have been even longer. Risky driving around with Sam all that way – no, Dean wouldn’t do that. He’d find someplace closer… but who knew what Kubrick had planned. Dean had no idea what his motivation was, and that made it hard to predict what the kidnapper would do.

Checking his phone, there were no messages from Charlie, and he had little hope that pathetic angel would have news either. He jumped when it started to ring in his hand and stared at it in disbelief when he saw the caller ID: 666. 

“What the…” he said and picked up. It could be, probably was, about Sam. Too much of a coincidence of something that weird happening when his brother was gone without the two being connected.

“…Hello?”

“Hello, Dean. Having fun?” 

He’d know that sarcasm anywhere. “Crowley,” he growled, “what the hell do _you_ want?”

“Oh nothing, Squirrel. Just thought you’d like to know where to find your boytoy.” 

Dean was almost overcome with fiery fury, fear and the overwhelming want, no need, to kill Crowley. 

“You got him?”

Crowley sighed. “Sadly, no. But I know who does.”

“Who?” Dean said, unable to keep his feelings from spilling out even from that single word.

“If I tell you, you go there and get killed or captured, being of absolutely no use to me.”

“If you don’t tell them, whoever the fuck they are, they won’t know I’m coming.”

Dean could _hear_ that smug smile on Crowley’s face as the demon answered. “I am me, Dean. I know where he is, and I know who he’s with, and you are no match for them.” Then his tone changed, and he sighed in frustration. “Those fucking angels are so damn annoying to deal with.”

If Crowley was telling the truth, calling Castiel again might pose a risk to Sam. He didn’t know if the angel had severed all ties with his siblings, and Castiel _had_ hesitated to hand Dean the weapons needed to kill them. Demons do lie, but everybody else had jack squat on where Sam might be… and if Crowley wanted Dean dead or captured, he’d had opportunities to make that happen on more than one occasion.

“Angels got him?” Dean said, closing the door to the bedroom to keep Adrianna from hearing. 

“They do. And you need to power up to get him back. Fortunately for you, I know how.”

Dean closed his eyes in resignation. If he had to work with Crowley to get to Sam, he would. Then he’d kill the angels, and Kubrick, and Crowley. 

“How?” 

“Tell me where you are, and we’ll go for a road trip, just you and me. No funny business though, Squirrel, hands to yourself. I know what you do in that car.”

Dean thought he might implode if he had to put up with this, but he told Crowley the address and three seconds later, the demon knocked on the bedroom door. 

“You decent?” Crowley asked. 

Dean opened the door. “Let’s go.” He ignored Crowley’s comment, but that didn’t make the demon look any less self-satisfied. 

“Dean, I know you like the rough stuff, but that’s a little extreme.” Crowley said and pointed behind his back. Then he grinned. “I love it.” 

Dean pushed Crowley out of the way and walked up to Adrianna. “I’ll call 911 when we get out of here. If you tell anyone – anyone – about what happened here, I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you. I promise.” 

Adrianna nodded. Dean knew she believed him. 

Having Crowley by his side in the Impala was making his skin crawl, knowing that this time, he’d invited the demon there. It was sickening, but Crowley’s intel was also his only lead right now. Texting Charlie confirmed it. The girls had nothing. He had nothing. Except for the demon. 

“Where to?” Dean asked. 

“I’ve got a weapon for you.” Crowley said. He got a weird knife out, made of old bone. 

“That kills angels?” Dean said in disbelief. It looked more like it belonged in a museum. 

“Not right now, it doesn’t.” Crowley said. “But it will. You know your Bible?” 

“About as well as anyone.” 

Truth was, he didn’t exactly care for the good book. If there was someone up there, they sure as hell did nothing to help humanity, and that made it worse to have faith than not to. Now, with the angels, it was harder to believe there was nothing, but Dean was pretty convinced all the love crap was bullshit. 

“This, my little kinkster, is the First Blade, used by Cain. It kills _anything_.” Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes. “ _If_ you have the matching Mark of Cain, of course. There’s always a catch with these things.” 

“Cain? Like in… _Cain_?” Dean couldn’t believe where this was going. He wondered if he’d wake up soon, realizing this whole thing was a weird dream. 

“There’s only one in the Bible, Squirrel. The Father of Murder. We’ll go for a visit, ask nicely if he’d give you the Mark. I have a feeling he’ll like you.” 

“Cain is ALIVE?” Dean exclaimed. This wasn’t getting less weird.

“He is. And sadly, he won’t give anything to me, the stuck-up bastard. _You_ , on the other hand, might be an unstoppable angel-killer by the end of the night.”

Dean shook his head. “And what says you’re not lying to me?” 

“What else you got?” Crowley smirked. “If you want your precious _sweetness_ back, of course.” The demon shrugged. “Or maybe you’d like to stick to girls with holes in their knees from now on?”

“Would you shut the fuck up and tell me where to go?” Dean said, doing his best to contain the raging fury inside. 

It was a long drive. Dean felt a little itch growing, almost unnoticeable but he knew it would get worse. When the itch was followed by a bit of nausea and a slight tremble in his hands, he knew he had to stop for a pick-me-up if he wanted to keep driving. And he didn’t _want_ to, he _had_ to, so he pulled over.

“We don’t have time for picnics, you know.” 

Crowley was clearly annoyed that they’d stopped.

Dean glared at Crowley. “Have to take a leak, be right back.”

He had no intention of telling Crowley about the state he was in if the demon hadn't figured that out. The only problem was, Crowley followed him out. There was no way to keep what he was going to do from the demon; telling him to wait in the car would of course have the opposite effect. Dean cursed under his breath and gave up trying to hide it. Crowley chuckled as Dean did the line.

“You are so deliciously depraved,” the demon said, “we should hang out more often.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean growled at him, feeling the energy returning and the itch dying down.

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Squirrel. You being a junkie is hardly news.”

There and then, Dean wanted so badly to kill Crowley it almost blinded him… maybe because the demon didn’t exactly lie. But he didn’t. Instead, he got back behind the wheel and drove off. 

From there, it felt like an eternity, trying to ignore Crowley’s snide remarks and not panic over what could be happening to Sam. Finally, an hour later and with the moon ominously red in the sky, they drove up a dirt road to an old country house. It was hard to believe the immortal Father of Murder lived there, but when an older man with luscious gray hair stepped out and lit the porch lights, Dean got goosebumps and chills traveling down his spine. This wasn’t a human, he could feel it even from inside the car. He had to use every last drop of willpower to get out of the car and walk towards the nightmare creature posing as a jovial family father.

“Hi there Cain, old friend.” Crowley said as they stopped before the Father of Murder.

Cain ignored him. “You want something from me, my child?”

“Not your child.” Dean said, wishing he’d sounded a little more confident. 

“Oh, but you are. Many times over.” 

Dean had no answer to that. He understood what the monster in front of him meant, that he was a murderer, and it left a very bitter taste in his mouth, rendering him mute. He couldn’t deny that Cain was correct. When he didn't answer, Cain kept talking.

“And you are here why? Let me guess. That tiresome demon told you to ask me for my Mark.”

Dean nodded. Cain scrutinized him from top to bottom, which made him feel uncomfortable to say the least.

“Know what? You can have it.” Cain shrugged, like it was nothing.

“Just like that?” Dean asked, finally finding his words again.

“You’re strong enough. Crowley will make sure everyone knows you have it. I’m old and tired and I want to be left alone.” 

Crowley was grinning like a vulture finding a corpse watching the scene. This, apparently, went exactly how he’d wished. _This can’t be the right thing to do_ , Dean thought. Still, he stood his ground as Cain got closer, even if every instinct he had told him to run. But he didn’t have any other plan, no other way to find Sammy. The closer Cain got, the stranger Dean felt. It was like the Ash-X stopped working and he got a little bit dizzy, unable to focus on anything but the creature before him. 

Cain held out his hand, and on his forearm, Dean could see a strange symbol, one he’d never seen before. Without thinking, he reached out to grab Cain’s hand to accept the power that would even out the game with the wing-monkeys. Then, something broke the near-hypnotic state he was in; a memory of Sammy’s voice, shrill and panicked, searching for something on his skin, something he couldn’t find… because maybe it hadn’t been there. Yet. 

_Listen to Sam’s voice._

He jerked his hand back instinctively as the memory filled his head. 

“No.”

“NO?” Crowley yelled. “He offers you power like that and you say NO? Lose your precious Sam, then, you epic _moron_!”

Crowley yelling like that had the opposite effect to what the demon wanted. Dean might be desperate, but he still knew that whatever Crowley wanted that badly must carry a price he wasn’t prepared to pay, after all. Sam would never forgive him if he did. He’d find Sam some other way, he had to.

“No.” he repeated, more decisive this time. 

Cain looked surprised and slightly irritated. “Why come bother me then?” 

Then, something weird happened. First, Dean thought it was Cain doing it, hurting him for saying no, but by the look on Cain’s face, it wasn’t him. Or Crowley, who backed up a step as he saw strange lights shooting out of Dean’s body, like he was on fire. It felt like he was impaled, a sharp pain killing every thought except _please stop, this is too fucking much_ , and then, just as sudden as it began, it did stop. The lights died down, got sucked back into his body, into… his tattoos. 

“Seems you got some marks of your own, child.” Cain said with some interest in his eyes. Then he sighed, and the fleeting interest was gone. “But I don’t wish to be disturbed any longer. Leave.”

“You stupid, perverted, idiotic, fucking moron.” Crowley growled and made a furious gesture at him. Dean prepared to be flung into the house; he’d been around demons before and he knew what happened when they waved their hands like that. But… nothing happened. 

Crowley stared at Dean in shock and then tried again. Nothing. Whatever the strange and very painful lights had done to him, Dean liked it. He took a few steps closer to Crowley, intending to find out just what he could do now. Crowley knew something about Sam, and Dean had to find out what.

“Damn.” Crowley said and disappeared into thin air.

Cain was watching Dean thoughtfully.

“That was definitely interesting. Not much is when you’ve lived as long as I have.”

“… Thank you?” Dean said, not knowing what else to say.

“I still want to get rid of you. Why did you seek me out in the first place?” Cain asked. 

“My… my brother. Angels got him.” Dean sighed and rubbed his face. “Or so Crowley said.” 

Cain shook his head with a dark smile. “Maybe you _are_ a moron. Is your brother a child of mine, too?” 

“Yes.” Dean said after a moment of hesitation. He didn’t want to think about it, but Sam had killed that evil bitch Melanie, and then Gordon. He was a murderer too, no matter how justified it’d been. 

“Then I can tell you where he is. I know all my children. But if I do, I want to know that you never show up here again.” 

Giving a creature like Cain a free pass wasn’t a choice a hunter should even consider, but Dean didn’t hesitate one second. For the location of Sam, he’d promise a whole lot more than that. 

“You have my word.”

“I need some of your blood.” Cain said with a nod. “Assuming you are brothers by blood.”

“Where do you want it?” Dean asked, drawing his knife. 

“Oh, I just need a taste.” Cain said. 

He reached out for the knife, and cut Dean’s fingertip, sticking it into his mouth. That was one of the weirdest moments in Dean’s life, feeling the Father of Murder sucking his finger. Cain tasted the blood like it was wine, rolling it in his mouth while giving Dean his finger back. Dean dried it off on his jeans, trying to get rid of all Cain-saliva he could before it made him sick to his stomach.

“He’s at an old house out by an abandoned orchard near a town called Stillwater a day or so west of here.” Cain said, licking his lips. “And I don’t think there’s as much as an angel _feather_ there.”

“Crowley.” Dean mumbled, burning with hate.

“Probably.” Cain said with a eyeroll. “Be smarter, child. Start by leaving.”

Dean nodded and hurried back to the car. He knew the place, it wasn’t that far from where Jody lived. She’d taken him there once when he was a kid. The Impala skidded off, and he cursed loudly, wondering whether he dared send anyone else to try and pick up Sam. Kubrick had doubled back and now Dean had a long way to drive before he got there. But who could he trust that was close enough? He couldn’t send Jody, not alone… and who knew if demons had corrupted more hunters, not just Kubrick? Dean pushed the Impala to her absolute limit, but it was a long way to drive, even if he could cut hours off it. Maybe…

“I pray to Castiel to get here.” His prayers got shorter every time, but they seemed to work anyway, because suddenly the angel was next to him in the car. He looked a little dizzy.

“Hard landing in a moving car?” Dean asked with a glance sideways. 

“No, that’s not… I felt the symbols being activated. Every angel did. What did you do?” Castiel asked. 

Dean snorted. “Tell you later. Now I need to know, those fancy silver blades of yours, will they kill demons too?” 

It was probably too much to hope for.

“Yes.” Castiel said. “They will. Have you found Sam?” 

The angel spoke carefully, like he didn’t want another harsh brush-off from Dean. He also seemed a little bit hopeful, probably because Dean’s question pointed at demons being responsible for the kidnapping, not angels. 

“I got a location but it’s fucking far from here. If I tell you where, will you go check on Sam?” 

If the angel could show up in a second when he called, he should be able to go other places in seconds as well. And he was good at sneaking around, considering Dean had never suspected being stalked. 

“Or I could take you with me, if you want?” Castiel said, still a little bit hesitant to say anything except yes to a direct order.

“You could… what?” Dean said in shock.

“I can’t fly with the car, Dean, but I could bring you. If that’s what you wish.” 

Dean stepped on the brakes and the Impala came to a sudden stop at the side of the road. 

“We’ll worry about Baby later. Hang on.” Dean said, got out of the car and went to the trunk while explaining to the angel where he wanted to go. He got ready for a fight: Shotgun loaded up with rock salt, holy water, angel blade. He weighed the Ash-X in his hand, the little that was left of it, trying to figure out how long he had. It should be long enough. _Please, please be there, Sammy baby, because coming down from this will be a fucking bitch_ , he thought to himself. _Gotta find you_ now. Also, he was closing in on two days without sleeping. Time was running out if he wanted to find Sam without crashing first. 

_“You being a junkie is hardly news.”_ Crowley had said that, and it had made him furious. Because right now, it was hard arguing against it… but guilt had to come later. He had too much of that coming to dare even thinking about it right now. He shoved the little bag in his pocket, just in case. If he had to, if Sam needed him to stay awake a bit longer, he’d do it. Even if he felt sick just thinking about doing one more thing Crowley wanted or found funny. All the fucked-up, horrendous things he’d done in his life… it had to stop. 

“What’s that, Dean?” Castiel asked, watching him anxiously. 

“Never mind. I’m ready.” Dean said, jumped up and down a few times. “Damnit, I hate flying.” 

The angel jerked a little bit at Dean blaspheming, but he didn’t say anything. He just looked hurt. Dean shook his head at that and closed his eyes. Then he felt Castiel touch his forehead, which made a very strange pulse go through his body, like the sensation of standing front row at a concert.

“We’re here now, Dean.”

Dean opened his eyes. The Impala, the woods, the road, it was all gone. He was standing in the orchard, close enough to see the lights from the windows in the old house. It was a weird feeling, like waking up and not knowing where you are, and he stumbled to the side, a little lightheaded. 

“I see that.” 

He calmed his breathing down, got ready for a fight. In the dim light of morning, he could see at least two people outside the house and he glimpsed another one inside. There were probably more of them, and Dean guessed they were all demons. The only explanation for kidnapping Sam and keeping him alive must be Crowley wanting him to get that Mark and become Crowley’s angel-killing bitch.

“Those are demons.” Castiel said, matter of fact. 

“You can see that?” Dean asked. 

It was nice with confirmation. This pet angel wasn’t entirely useless after all. Dean leaned more and more to the trust-Castiel-side even if he still didn’t, not completely. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Dean said and took a deep breath. “Castiel. Listen. I’m gonna need back-up. Can you fight?”

Castiel smiled, for the first time since he met Dean. “Yes.”

“Let’s go, then.” 

Sneaking up to the house, Dean realized there were at least six demons there, maybe more of them. He swallowed. No matter how good he was, no matter if that silvery blade killed demons, he couldn’t pull this off, not even if they couldn’t fling him into walls anymore. He might have to wait for more back-up. His entire body itched, he just had to know if Sammy was in there, he couldn’t just leave… but if he got caught, it was very likely he’d end up captured or dead. 

Fighting himself on the matter, he saw the stupid trenchcoated creature stepping up to the two watchdog demons like he was taking a Sunday stroll. But before he could curse at the idiocy, the angel put one palm on each demon’s forehead and light came out of their eyes. The demons were trembling, shaking, and then they fell to the ground, black holes where their eyes used to be. Dean was dumbstruck for a moment. The angel could fight, right, but now the fight came to him, demons welling out of the door. Dean was ready, almost born ready (he could vaguely remember a time that had white picket fences in it, but only vaguely) and now, he was about to find out if it was enough, angel by his side or not, because however powerful he was, Castiel only had two hands.


	32. Angel Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tells his side of the story, and Castiel proves to be very useful.

Sam had never felt as stupid as he did when he woke tied up in thein the back of a van. A hunter he had met once showed up in the middle of the night looking for help - 

"Hurry Sam, I need backup, please."

\- and Dean, who never had a problem waking up at the slightest disturbance, suddenly impossible to shake life into...? No, not suspicious at all. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sam swallowed and felt tears well up in his throat. He’d made it easy for that motherfucker. 

Thoughts warred against each other in his head. His mind raced, questions and thoughts crashing into each other and overlapping faster than he could begin to process them. Why had this Kubrick kidnapped him in the first place… and what was he planning to do with him? And had he done something to Dean? And how much time had passed, where were they going?

Sam tried to move and decided it might be possible to slip the ropes, even in a moving car. He took a deep breath and decided that even if he’d been stupid, now wasn’t the time for guilt. After all, Jody and Dean both seemed to trust this guy, no wonder he’d done the same. They hadn’t bought his stupid story about something outside, though, and been fucking electrocuted because of it. It’d hurt like hell. He welcomed the anger that rushed in when he remembered what it had felt like. Anger was way more productive than anxiety and guilt. If he was fast enough, he could get the drop on Kubrick; the kidnapper had to get him out of the van at some point. 

When Kubrick unlocked the back door, Sam was ready. He kicked the door with all he had, and it slammed right into Kubrick’s face. The only problem was that when Sam jumped out, his kidnapper had staggered backwards and had the taser gun on him. Sam hesitated for a second, which gave Kubrick the chance to back up a few more steps, making sure he’d have time to pull the trigger before Sam could get to him. With one hand over his bloody nose and a solid stream of mumbled curses, Kubrick gestured for him to start walking. 

Several men were waiting for them about a mile down the road. When they got closer, one of them blinked to let him know who they were. What they were. Black eyes. Demons. Sam’s heart sunk; this was so much worse than he’d thought. He should never have hesitated, he should’ve taken the chance he’d made for himself. Dean most certainly would have, right? 

“Your fucking blood-kin broke my fucking nose! I’ll get the little pervert for that.” Kubrick snarled. “Hold him.” The last part was directed at the demon who seemed to be in charge.

“No. Boss wants him unharmed.” The demon sounded bored, like the kidnapper was a nuisance. 

“Fine.” Kubrick said, but it was clear he didn’t like it. He wanted to hurt Sam. But there was nothing he could do about it, so he continued in an aggravated voice. “Pay me for the incestuous demon-spawn then, and I’ll be on my way.”

Sam’s throat thickened, making it hard to breathe, when he heard what Kubrick called him. John must’ve somehow told Kubrick, and maybe other hunters, about the demon blood he’d had inside (maybe still had because that dream… it had been one of those dreams). And then there was the other thing. According to Dean, hunters accepted a lot if one among them found any little piece of happiness – but clearly, that didn’t include what they were to each other, at least not to all hunters. This one hated him enough to hand him over to demons without any hesitation.

“Sure.” The demon grinned and waved at Kubrick. His head twisted around, killing him immediately. 

“Get rid of that.” The demon made a vague gesture at the dead body, like it was trash. Which, to the demon, it probably was. 

Then it stuffed Sam into the trunk of one of their cars. Sam swore silently. Dean would have Charlie hacking traffic cams, that much Sam knew. Now she had no shot at finding them, and since Kubrick had made him walk to the other car, Dean wouldn’t even find sulfur to tell him what he was up against. Even if Dean could track him, going in blind against multiple demons? Dean was good, but nobody was that good. Sam felt his anxiety rise, having no room to move and nothing to calm him down. 

It was an almost unbearable car ride. For a little while he thought that the anxiety attack might kill him before the demons could, but when they got him out of the trunk and shoved him into an old abandoned house he’d somehow made himself breathe a little bit slower. All he could do now was hope for one chance, and if he got it he had to be ready. No more panic allowed.

Inside, he was pushed into a little worn-down room. The window was barred up and the furniture sparse; it had a bed, a table and a chair, a bucket in the corner. On closer inspection, there were books on the table and… cigarettes. His old brand. _How the fuck would demons know that_ , he thought.

“Oh, I know everything, Bambi.” The dark voice was smug, and Sam guessed that the thing speaking wore a black coat and a beard, which was confirmed when he jerked around. 

“Crowley.” Sam felt how his anger and hate for the demon oozed out of him, voice and eyes and stance. He didn’t doubt for one second that this was the demon trying to pull his brother’s strings like a puppeteer. 

“At your service, Sammy. Not so much Bambi anymore, are we? Dean made you fill out good. Made you more appetizing, I guess...” Crowley chuckled. “More like a… moose. Oh… and come to think of it, it’s more the other way around, you know. _You_ are at _my_ service.” His smile widened. “Won’t ask you to do anything your brother would, though. I’m not that into boys.”

The demon sure liked his own voice, giving that mocking and self-satisfied monologue. 

“I’m gonna kill you.” Sam snarled at him, which made Crowley laugh. 

“Oh, you are Dean’s brother alright.” Crowley shook his head and then he stage-whispered, mockingly overdramatic: “Maybe you’d like to know he’s about to kill anyone I point him at, so I wouldn’t expect him to find you anytime soon. Sorry about that.”

Sam’s words were stuck in his throat, silenced by the overwhelming anger and fear of what Crowley would blackmail his brother into doing; that must be what was happening here. Why he was unharmed – for now.

The demon didn’t mind having the floor to himself. He continued his mocking speech. “Just kidding. I’m not sorry. I’m giddy with joy. Do you know how seldom demons are giddy with joy?” 

Sam just glared at Crowley, felt his body get ready to lunge forward. But he knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance, so he stayed put. He had to wait for a better opportunity. 

“Nice chat. Make yourself comfortable, Samantha. I’m a good host… as long as your brother does what he’s told.” Crowley gave him one last smug smile and closed the door behind him. 

Sam paced back and forth for what felt like forever. Then he lit a cigarette, couldn’t help himself. It was an old coping strategy – easy to fall back into when it was right there. He was grateful that no matter how bad he felt, he had no urge to self-harm; that addiction was gone for good. He hoped Dean had control over his, as well. The box was still in the car… but Dean would be too busy searching for him to even think about it, right? _Or he’ll decide he needs that “edge”_ , Sam thought. _Please don’t, big brother_.

When Sam lit another cigarette right after the first one, the door opened, and two demons put food and water on the table without a word. Sam decided to eat after a moment’s hesitation. They certainly didn’t have to poison him if they wanted to hurt him, and he needed his strength if he got a chance to escape.

He also needed to rest, and that was harder than eating. He made himself lie down and close his eyes, but the next morning, it felt like he’d slept maybe five minutes here and there.

The next day, next to nothing happened. Food, water and cigarettes were given to him and the bucket was emptied – that was about it. Crowley, or whoever was in charge if he was gone, kept sending in two demons at a time, making sure he had zero chance to escape.

Late that night he finally fell asleep, the deep sleep that only comes from true exhaustion, only to wake up with a start. It took him a moment to realize why. There were noises, and screams, coming from outside. He sat up, shook his head and remembered where he was, and that this might be a good thing… because he was captured by demons. After the noise died down, someone tried to kick the door in. He heard a muffled sound, someone speaking, and his heart raced – that was Dean. His brother had somehow managed to find him _and_ fight his way past the demons. Both of which seemed completely impossible.

“Sammy! If you’re in there, back away from the door!” Dean yelled, and a few seconds later, the door exploded inwards and his brother came charging through. Behind him was Castiel, who no doubt was responsible for the shattered door – that was well beyond his brother’s capability. The angel must be the explanation at least for Dean being able to win the fight.

Dean reached him in a heartbeat, hugging him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Sam felt tears welling up in his eyes, the tension dying down, making him shiver. Dean shivered a little bit, too.

When Dean finally let him go, Sam could see what he’d felt – he wasn’t the only one crying. He could see more than that, though, and it made his heart heavy. The shivering probably wasn’t purely emotional. Dean was pale, his pupils dilated, and he had dark rings under his eyes. The twitchy stare and the facial tics were very telling of the state he was in. 

“Did they hurt you?” Dean asked.

“Not a scratch on me.” Sam tried to get Dean to keep eye contact but gave up and continued, nervous and anxious. “What did you take?”

Dean looked everywhere but at Sam. 

“I… I’ll explain later, Sammy. I promise. We have to go now.” He turned to Castiel. “Hey, wing-monkey? Can you fly us both back?”

“I can, Dean, but I’ll be a bit drained.” 

The angel had just been standing there waiting for orders. He looked less miserable, probably because Dean didn’t treat him like he was dog poop stuck to his shoe anymore. 

“Let’s go then, Angel Express.”

Castiel took a step forward, touching their foreheads. Sam wasn’t ready for the unnatural feeling, almost like he was dreaming, that came from suddenly being in another place. It took him a few seconds, holding on tight to Dean’s hand, to understand that he was outside now, next to the car.

Dean staggered. “Son of a _bitch_.”

“What, Dean?” Sam was deeply concerned about the way Dean looked. If the fight had been just a little bit longer, the demons could have huffed and puffed until he fell over. 

“This crap is wearing off a lot faster than I expected. Listen, sweetness, I’ve been up for two days. Can you drive?”

Sam swallowed and shook his head. “You’ve been high for two days?” 

“I’m coming down now, Sammy. Will be one hell of a crash. Need someplace to do that. Can you drive?” 

His brother was speaking in short, jerky sentences, clearly feeling whatever drug he was on leaving his system.

“Yeah. How far is it to Jody’s?” 

Dean twitched when Sam mentioned Jody’s name. “Not sure I’m welcome there, sweetness. They take your phone?”

“If you didn’t bring it, it’s still at Jody’s.” Sam didn’t like this, not at all. 

“Here, use mine. Call Jody, tell her you’re alright and GPS us to whatever crappy motel you can find.” Dean spoke flatly and handed over his phone and the car keys. “Please.”

“I’ll tell her that _we’re_ alright.” Sam liked this less and less by the second. 

Dean shrugged, steadying himself with one hand on the Impala. 

“Dean?” Castiel sounded cautious. No wonder since Dean had bit his head off whenever he’d opened his mouth since they met.

“Yes?” Dean sighed.

“Maybe I could try healing you.” The angel was very sincere. 

“Instant angel rehab… could make serious cash on that.” Dean mumbled, shook his head as if he tried to clear it, and continued in a louder voice. “That’d be awesome, Castiel.” 

The angel took a step forward and raised his hand.

“Wait!” Sam said.

“I won’t hurt him, Sam.” Castiel said wearily. 

“It’s not about that, Castiel.” Sam couldn’t see any reason for the angel to hurt his brother right after what he’d done for them. “I’m just not sure giving Dean a free pass is such a good idea.”

“What do you mean, Sam?” Castiel asked, looking very confused.

“Castiel… look, if Dean can be high as a kite for two days and you just fix him right up, he’ll just do it again.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Sammy, I didn’t do this for kicks!” Dean scowled at Sam.

Dean was telling the truth… and he needed his brother back in the game to figure out what to do next. He also needed to have a serious conversation about what had happened while he’d been gone. They had done detox before, could do it again, but it did take time and it certainly clashed with any other plans.

Sam sighed. “Fine. Do what you can, Castiel.”

Castiel simply took a step forward and touched Dean gently. Dean shuddered and then blinked hard a few times.

“That’s…” Dean said, and if Sam hadn’t held him up, he’d ended up on the ground. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, heart racing. 

“I’m… very fucking tired. Feels like I haven’t slept for days.” 

“You haven’t, remember?” Sam said with great relief. “Sleep in the car. I’ll drive.”

His brother was in no shape to have any part of the very long conversation including why he’d chosen to be that messed up on a rescue mission– he had to sleep first. 

Dean rubbed his face. “Castiel, you stick with Sam. Make sure he’s safe, okay?”

Trusting the angel to protect Sam, even if it was the only option other than leaving Sam alone when Dean slept, was proof that his brother had changed his mind about Castiel after they’d fought side by side.

“Of course, Dean. I will travel in the uncomfortable steel box with you and Sam.”

The way the angel looked at the car, it was obvious he didn’t look forward to a road trip, but he still seemed content, almost happy. Was Dean’s trust that important to this alien, celestial being?

“Good.” Dean mumbled and crawled into the car’s backseat. “Call Jody, Sam.” Then he turned to Sam, looked him in the eyes. “I am so, so sorry, sweetness. I’ve fucked up everything.”

Sam saw the sincerity and the pain in those green eyes, felt how much guilt and regret Dean was feeling. This was about more than drugs. 

“We’ll deal with all that when you wake up. Now sleep.” Sam said, very concerned.

Then he watched his brother fall asleep almost the second his head hit the back seat. He opened the glove compartment to see if Dean had put his phone there and forgotten about it. He hadn’t, but there was an envelope in there, with his name on it, in Dean’s writing. He stopped for a second in surprise, and then he opened it. There was a confirmation of a booking for two, and it had a message written for him: _Remember that night we talked about? Let’s make it a weekend. Grown-ups have more fun, sweetness, you’ll see. D._

He stood there for a little while, feeling the envelope was mocking him, reminding him of how good things had been, and how messed-up they were now. He sighed deeply and put it back. Castiel was waiting for him patiently, standing still like a statue. 

Sam picked up Dean’s phone. Jody and the girls must be going crazy not knowing what was going on.

“Dean?” Jody answered, with a barely recognizable voice. They probably hadn’t gotten much sleep over at her house, either. 

“He’s fine,” Sam said, “and so am I, Jody.”

“Sam! I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice.” Jody said, very emotional. “Are you on your way back here?”

He heard voices in the background and waited a second, let Jody confirm to the others he was safe. 

“Dean’s asleep, but he seems to believe you don’t want him there.”

Jody sighed, and it took her a second or two to answer. “Both of you are welcome to rest up here. We were so goddamn worried about you, Sam.”

“But?”

Sam could hear from a mile away there was a “but”. Not that there had been any doubt about it, the way Dean had looked when he told Sam they should head someplace else, the way he’d asked Sam to call. 

“I can’t lie to you… There are some fences to mend here. I can’t promise everyone in the house will welcome your brother with an open heart.” Jody took a deep breath. “Sam…” 

He instantly knew he didn’t want to hear this, but he still had to. 

“Just tell me.”

“Was he… sober when he found you?”

“No, Jody. Not even close.” 

Jody sighed. She’d clearly expected that answer. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know he promised you. He’s been out of his mind, really scared the girls. He scared me too, a little bit.”

“Yeah. And, what else, Jody?”

Sam could tell that wasn’t the only thing by the tone of her voice. He had good intuition and he knew Jody well by now. 

“We… we gave him the name of a hunter who might know something, and Charlie’s radar pinged when that hunter came into the ER. She was in bad shape, Sam. Real bad shape.” 

Sam could hear the pain in her voice, the way she didn’t want to believe his brother had done this, but still had very little doubt he had. Sam felt the same way, but he also felt guilt. He’d been a part of getting Dean into this mess. No matter how disappointed or angry he’d be with Dean, he had to remember that if he hadn’t handed himself up on a silver plate, none of this would’ve happened.

“Maybe we should find someplace else for a few days.” Sam said, not wanting to think about that this might not even be it. There might be more, things Jody didn’t know about. The way Dean had said he was sorry… 

Jody was quiet for a few seconds. “Maybe you should. But Sam, when he wakes up, tell him he’s still my kid, will you? Even if I’ll kick his ass next time I see him for all the shit he put us through.” 

“I’ll tell him.” Sam said with a heavy heart. 

“And Sam? That hunter will be fine. Says she has no idea about who did it to her.” Jody said it like she didn’t want to hear it herself. Didn’t want to think about why she would say it.

“Okay, Jody. Thanks.” 

The family he’d been kidnapped from had been ripped apart, and no matter how much Jody wanted to, she couldn’t deny it. Sam had a strong feeling that not even Jody herself felt the same way about Dean anymore. 

He hung up and got in the driver’s seat, waving for Castiel to get in next to him. Ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and turned the key. The Impala sped off with a sleeping junkie hitman, his (hopefully) formerly demon-blood-infested incestuous lover and an angel who was wanted for treason against Heaven.


	33. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean deal with the aftermath of the kidnapping. Sam has an unexpected idea.

It was dark outside when Dean Winchester finished up the first real meal he’d had in days. He hadn’t said much since he woke up in the less than comfortable motel bed, looking broken down and worn out. Thanks to the angel standing guard outside there was no hang-over to deal with… not physically, anyway. Dean had checked that Sam had taken every protective measure they knew of. Asked about Castiel, who had turned invisible not to draw attention standing there like a statue. That was about it.

Sam put two glasses on the table and served them both whiskey. 

“If you’re thinking about getting drunk off your ass, that’s not an option.” Sam caught Dean’s hand with both of his. “I’ll listen, Dean, I’m right here because you saved me. Again. Just… please, don’t lie to me.”

Dean looked like Sam had hit him. “I wouldn’t…” Sam’s request had hit home, that much was obvious. 

“Maybe you’ve never lied to me outright. But you do have a thing for shortcuts and loopholes, and I’m having none of that.” Sam interrupted his brother, trying not to show how nervous he was. He’d made Jody and Castiel tell him everything they knew while Dean was sleeping and if Dean’s version didn’t match… that would hurt. Bad. He didn’t want to think about what it would mean for them, if there would even be a "them" anymore.

“I’m done with shortcuts and loopholes, Sammy. You might wish I wasn’t, though.” Dean sounded weary and sad. And honest. He had no smirks, no jokes, no evasive maneuvers, no nothing like that coming, Sam could feel it. 

“You once told me, Dean, _‘I’m not looking to cherry-pick with you. I want it all.’_ That’s what you said. Don’t you think I want that, too?”

And he did. With what they had, what they were, there wasn’t any other way. Half-lies and loopholes would shred them to pieces sooner or later. _Please, tell the truth,_ Sam thought. _Please, please._

Dean had a wistful smile on his lips. “I hope you’ll say that in an hour or so.” He sighed. “I’m not so sure that you will, Sammy.” 

Then he told Sam his side of the story, in a flat voice, and eyes that were somewhere else, only interrupted by a sip of whiskey every now and then. But he wasn’t planning on getting drunk, that was obvious from the way he was pacing himself. 

Dean had been right, it was fucking painful to hear most of what he had to tell – but there were no lies in there, no skipping of details, even if the words almost got stuck on the way out when he told Sam about some of the things he’d done in blind panic during the crazed search.

Sam let him talk, no interruptions. But he had questions waiting for Dean afterwards. 

“That hunter, Dean. You’ve done that before. You said you killed people, but…”

Sam didn’t want to know any of this. Didn’t want to think about how his brother had made people that had nothing but love for him terrified. How he’d not even considered asking before he went to orders… and knives and guns, when it came to strangers. But to find a way to get past this, he had to know. 

“I skipped the part about how I did it sometimes, let you believe that sniper rifle told the story. I couldn’t, Sam, it’s…” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“Maybe I believed what I wanted to believe.” Sam was sad, hurting, anxious – but he wasn’t stupid. He’d most probably blocked other possibilities out because he didn’t want to know. Now, he had to. 

“How many, Dean? Including Adrianna?” 

Tears came down Dean’s face and his lips trembled. He could barely get any words out.

“Six.” A short break. “And two… of them… it was worse, Sammy. Way worse.” 

Seeing Dean hurt like that, cry like that… Sam felt his insides twist into knots and he had trouble breathing. His thoughts included those people Dean had hurt, sure, but he also felt what this had done to Dean, torturing people. How deep he’d buried it. 

“How did you even know how to do… that, Dean? Was it John?”

Dean laughed through the tears, a dark, scary laugh. “They don’t teach that in the marines, Sammy. No, he sent me somewhere, made me… More money, he said. He has… had… a lot of people on payroll. Nobody liked him, but everyone likes money.”

Sam’s next question came out in a whisper even if he didn’t mean for it to. 

“How old were you, Dean, when he sent you there?”

“Seventeen. I don’t want to remember, Sammy, I don’t… it feels like I was in hell. Like I turned into a demon myself.”

When Sam had still been living with Missouri, Dean had learned how to shoot people in the knee. 

Sam got up, made his brother stand up and hugged him, let Dean hold on to him. 

“You’re no demon, Dean. You were forced to do it, and I don’t blame you for blocking it out.” Sam whispered in Dean’s ear. 

He had expected the answer would be hurtful to hear, but he had never expected Dean to be so raw, so open about how much pain he was in. It was excruciating but it was a great relief too. The first step was taken, the truth was out, and Dean was ready to deal with it. And even if Adrianna had been Dean’s choice, through and through, something had changed in his brother. Sam could _feel_ it.

“If there’s more, now is the time to get it all out.” Sam didn’t want to do this ever again, finding out his brother had more secrets – he wanted them all right here and now. 

He wondered how Dean could be so loving, taking care of him every single fucking day, after being raised like that… it was a fucking miracle. How he’d finally escaped the brainwashing his father had put him through since he was four. No matter if there was more, Sam had to remember that. Remember why Dean had been able to do the things he’d done.

“No.” Dean hugged him even harder. “It’s too much already.” Then he let Sam go enough to be able to look him in the eyes, lock them in his. 

“I don’t want it anymore, Sammy. I can’t. I’m done with all that fucking crap. No more drugs, no more jobs, no more hiding things from you, no more doing what I did to Jody and the girls.”

Dean took a deep breath, as deep as was possible in his current state. “I won’t lose myself again. I promise. I promise _you_.”

Dean had said what Sam needed to hear, and all on his own. Sam’s disappointment, anger and pain turned less vicious. The wound caused by what he’d had to hear started to heal. It would become a scar in time. 

“I love you, Dean. I don’t know about Jody or Charlie or Claire, but I forgive you. Might take me awhile to process all this, but I forgive you.” 

Sam kissed his brother, let him know he meant it. It might be very wrong to forgive all the horrendous things Dean had done, but he did. When he let Dean go, he had one more tough question left.

“But how could you trust Crowley like that? You taught me to never ever trust demons.”

Dean dried his tears. “Because nobody else knew anything and… angels, if they’re out there, I…”

Sam stroked Dean’s back. “I think we can trust they are. Castiel is the proof.” 

Dean nodded. “I’ve seen too much evil, sweetness, and not just monsters. When a case turned out to be not our thing, I’ve seen… and with what I’ve done myself… how could I ever trust angels, when they don’t do one fucking single thing about all of that?” 

The question was filled with anger and resentment. Dean continued while Sam was thinking about what he’d said. 

“Even Castiel has said that they want nothing but to hurt us. At least demons don’t hide the fact that they’re evil.” 

Sam felt a tear trickle down his cheek listening to his brother trying to explain why he’d believed Crowley when the demon had told him angels were responsible. Why he was so easily convinced that angels would do something like that to them. 

“And you doubted Castiel could really believe you deserved help enough to help you fight his siblings.”

It was a statement, not a question; he was pretty sure he was right. Dean wouldn’t have trusted Castiel either way, but part of why he didn’t believe the angel’s story was that he couldn’t think of himself like Castiel suggested he should. 

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, but yeah, I guess so. What angel could, with what I’ve done?”

Sam kissed his brother again. “Maybe he can’t just see demons inside their meatsuits. Maybe he can see your heart.” 

Dean smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t that be something. There’s mostly you in there, you know. Always was.” Then he sighed. “Still don’t know what the wings on my back mean. Hurt like hell.” 

“How about I tell you my side of the story, and we’ll talk about the wings tomorrow? Maybe Castiel can tell us more.” 

Sam didn’t want to tell Dean how little trust he’d had in him. How he’d put pressure on Jody to talk to know enough to tell if his brother was lying or not. How he’d decided to not say anything about what he knew about Adrianna, or what had happened to her, before he knew if Dean would tell him about it. But telling the truth had to go both ways. It would hurt his brother, he knew that. But this time, Dean needed to feel that hurt to remember what he’d done to them, how far they had to go from here even if Sam had forgiven him.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean said, sat back down. “I’m listening, sweetness.” 

“It starts with me being an idiot.” 

Sam’s side didn’t take as long to tell, but it did have one very painful detail that Dean didn’t know about. One that had been eating at Sam from the moment it happened.

“What he called me, Dean… the way he looked at me… if other hunters know...”

Dean shook his head. “I will keep you safe, Sammy. I swear.” 

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Not just me I’m worried about.” 

Maybe other hunters wouldn’t care about what happened to people protecting a perverted demon-spawn, and he didn’t want to think about what it would feel like getting others hurt, just because they were on his side. If _Dean_ was hurt. Or even killed.

Sam continued. “That dream I had, Dean. What if the cleansing didn’t work? And what if other hunters know, feel the same way Kubrick did?”

Dean squeezed his hand. “Then we’ll… stop every single one of them. And what if you’re just psychic? Like Missouri and Pamela, and the demon blood just made it stronger?” 

Sam looked thoughtfully at his brother. That was a possibility. A real one. It would explain why the dream had been so fuzzy compared to the others. And it did seem a little off for demon blood to kind of save his brother.

It also felt good hearing Dean hesitate, because a week ago, he’d said kill. Now he didn’t.

Dean continued. “Maybe that was why the demon chose you, sweetness. Because you already had that inside.” 

Dean tried to make him feel better, and the theory was getting stronger, but Sam was afraid that he’d believe it because he wanted it to be the truth; something Dean definitely might do. His brother was smart, but he’d proven beyond any doubt that Sam could make him stupid. 

Sam felt a hint of desperation flicker in the back of his head. They had to find out more. The cosmic war that Castiel, and Crowley, said was coming… they seemed to be smack in the middle of it, and when angels and demons agreed on something, you’d better listen. 

“Maybe.” Sam finally answered. “Either way, I’d like to talk to Castiel again, see if he knows anything he hasn’t told us. And Dean?”

Dean got that look in his eyes, the look that said he knew something was up because when it came to Sam, he had a psychic power of his own – mind reading.

“Yes, babe?” 

His brother was apprehensive, he’d predicted what Sam was about to say wouldn’t be something he’d like. 

“I want to talk to John.” Sam said decisively, preparing for the inevitable argument that would follow. 

Dean’s eyes widened. His ability to read Sam’s thoughts hadn’t prepared him for that statement, that was obvious.

“Why?” Dean asked, making sure Sam knew he didn’t care for the idea.

“Look, I’d like to kill the guy more than once for what he’s done to you. But, he knew about my demon-blood long before we did, and you said it yourself, he had sources we’ll probably never have. What if he knows something? Something useful?” 

Sam tried to convince Dean, because whatever John had done, they didn’t have anybody else right now who could give them the answers he could.

Dean sighed wearily. “Even if I’d wanted to, I can’t get to him, Sammy. The kind of terrorist he must’ve been branded don’t get trials, baby, they simply disappear. I made sure to bury him deep.” 

“Maybe I could.” Sam said, thinking he had something nobody else had. 

Dean looked at him, clearly wondering if Sam had lost it. 

“How the fuck would you pull that off, Sammy?”

“He wouldn’t talk, would he, Dean?” Sam asked. 

He didn’t know his father very well… or at all, really. All he knew was that John had abandoned him and given his brother a horrible childhood and then tried to have Dean beaten half to death. But from the little he knew, he was quite sure that man wouldn’t give up his secrets no matter what.

“No. And if he did, who would believe him?” Dean asked, curiously.

“But they’d want him to?” Sam continued his line of questioning, more decisive with every word.

“Fuck yes. Hopefully they’re using all methods to make him.” Dean said, and then closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, probably because he remembered what he’d done to make people talk. It wasn’t buried anymore, it was painfully close, and Dean didn’t seem to make any effort to put it back in the darkness of the corners of his mind. Even if it hurt not to.

“What if I offered them something that might get him talking?” Sam asked, and before Dean had time to question him about what the hell he was thinking, he kept going. “What if his son wanted to see him?” 

Dean drew a sharp breath. “You want to go in legit? Hope an alarm will go off if you talk to the police?” He shook his head. “What if they snatch you up, too? I can’t lose you, babe. I just got you back.” 

“We’ll put contingencies in place somehow.” 

Sam was sure they could figure that out. He just had to get Dean to try, to agree that Sam had to take risks sometimes. If Dean squirreled him away somewhere to keep him safe, it wouldn’t end up well for anyone. He could never live on lock-down. 

“Babe, I can’t even go with you. I’m dead, you know. And oh yeah, I’m Ted Nugent, too.” 

Sam didn’t get it. “Ted Nugent?”

“The geo-casher, babe, that’s what I named him. They have my fake ID on file, and they must know it’s a fake.” Dean continued, thinking out loud. “Even if it doesn’t really look like me.” Then he sighed. “But that doesn’t matter. IF they’d let you bring someone, I can’t fake anything even close to holding up to their level of scrutiny, Sammy.” 

Even if Dean fought the idea, he hadn’t tried to oppose the idea that John might have useful information. That meant he believed Sam was right about that, which made Sam want to try his plan out even more. Even if he didn’t have more than a vague idea about who “they” could be.

“Maybe Charlie could.” Sam knew that if anyone could pull it off, it would be her. “Ash could help out, too.” 

Sam didn’t want Ash anywhere near Dean, but he didn’t have to let them be in the same room for Ash to help. 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I’ll say this, but I don’t want Ash to know what we’re doing. I don’t trust anyone right now.”

“Charlie, then.”

Dean wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You know what I did to Charlie.” 

“What _you did._ She’ll probably do it for me if I ask her.” Sam remembered something, feeling a sting of guilt he’d forgotten it up until now. “Jody wanted me to tell you that you’re still her kid. Maybe they will forgive you. I did.” 

“We’ll see, sweetness.” Dean had little hope in his voice. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, when Castiel has given us any info he has. You have to sleep, and I’d like to hold you while you do. Try to get a few more hours, myself.” He looked at Sam. “If you want me to.”

“Dean, stop.”

“What?”

“Stop thinking I didn’t forgive you. Trust your Sam-mojo.” 

“Sam-mojo?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Whatever it is that makes you know what I’m feeling and thinking.” Sam smiled. “It’s kind of annoying sometimes, you know.”

Dean didn’t answer in words. He just got Sam into bed. 


	34. Game changer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel tells Sam and Dean more about Dean's wing tattoo. 
> 
> I know I've kept you waiting for this chapter... Life is kicking my ass right now. (Feel free to cheer me up with a comment ;) ). I'll try to finish up the next one soon!

Sam liked watching Dean get dressed; newly shaved and smelling of Sam's shampoo (again), slowly sliding worn flannel over still-damp skin. This morning, though, it didn’t make Sam smile the way it used to – it hurt too much knowing what Dean had done. Sam wasn’t sure how long it would take but he would find a way to get past this as long as his brother kept his promises. 

His brother glanced through the window. Sam hadn’t seen one single person all morning; the place seemed deserted. This motel probably didn’t get too many customers, though. It was a shitty one even by their standards. 

“Of the douche-bags that art in Heaven, I pray to Castiel. Come here, wing-monkey.” Dean looked around. No angel. Then Castiel knocked on the window. 

“I can’t get in there, Dean.” His voice was easily heard through the old and drafty window. 

“Oh. Sorry.” Dean saying “sorry” to the angel wouldn’t have happened just a few days ago but fighting side by side had changed things.

Dean waved for Sam to smudge the symbol next to him, and as soon as it was done, Castiel materialized in the middle of the room.

“Hello, Dean.” The angel said as his eyes searched Dean's form, quietly taking stock of his posture and expressing, clearly trying to gauge the state he might be in.

“Hey, Cas. First... I won’t forget what you’ve done for us. Ever Honesty wasn’t always easy for the oldest Winchester, but this statement and his tone of voice didn’t have one hint of anything but gratefulness. 

A big smile lit up Castiel’s face, but then the angel looked confused. _I wonder if all angels are that easy to read_ , Sam thought. 

“Did you forget my name, Dean? It’s Cas _tiel_.”

Dean laughed. “No. A nickname is a good thing, you clueless wing-monkey.” 

Dean’s amusement was genuine, but Sam knew that the pain his brother had lived through the day before was still very much there. It wouldn’t take much to kill that smile and that was a good thing. His brother needed to remember what had happened, needed to deal with it. Not bury it.

Castiel made a grimace. “I prefer ‘Cas’ to wing-monkey. I’m not a monkey, Dean.” Then he lit up. “What should I call you?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Dean chuckled. “We’re going for breakfast, and then I want to talk to you.”

The angel nodded, clearly thinking of this as an order, not a request. “Of course, Dean.” Castiel continued a little nervously.” Can I… do you want me to come with you?”

Dean turned to Sam with a wordless question. Sam shrugged. 

"Sure..." Dean said, drawing out the word a little. "Before we go....uh, Cas, I'm not sure how much you saw when we saved Sam...but, well, you stalked me for like, months, right?"

The angel’s shoulders slumped. “Yes.”

“Then you know about Sammy and me.” Dean looked Castiel in the eye, unashamed of the relationship he was trying to communicate but still leery of the angel's potential reaction.

“What do you mean?” Cas asked.

Dean didn’t know how to articulate what he had assumed Castiel would understand. “That we… that I…” 

He got no help from the angel, who tilted his head and gazed at Dean like he was trying hard to understand. Sam gestured for Dean to continue. They needed to know how the angel felt about them if Castiel was to stick around.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Dean rolled his eyes and mumbled “I can’t believe this is happening.” Then he spoke up again. “Do you know that we have sex?” 

“Oh.” Castiel said. “Of course. Quite often. And loud.” The angel seemed oddly curious, like he’d seen a magic trick and wondered how it was done. “And sometimes in a very complica...” 

Dean interrupted Castiel. “Okay, enough. And for future reference, do _not_ watch us having sex. It’s creepy.” 

The angel nodded. “I won’t do it again.” He sounded very sincere, like he was taking notes on what to do and what not to do. 

_This is surreal_ , Sam thought. Then his brother found his hand, intertwining their fingers very deliberately. 

“And you’re fine with this?” Dean asked. 

“Yes.” 

Castiel’s answer was simple and short, like it was a simple question. It shouldn’t be. Half of Sam was relieved and happy that the angel accepted them for who they were… but the other half couldn’t trust a freaking _angel_ to be that open minded. 

“Look, Castiel.” Sam said. “You’re an angel, and what we’re doing is generally considered like a double cardinal sin.”

Castiel smiled faintly and shook his head. “I’ve come to question the concept of sin lately, and what you have is true love. It has a special… it’s hard to explain, like something between a color and a sound.”

The angel and Dean seemed to have a shared experience; they had both left behind an authority forcing them to see the world a certain way and to follow orders, and found something else – free will.

“Oh great, we’re broadcasted in soundcolor. Didn’t know angels smoked that kind of stuff.” Dean smiled. “Come on, Cas, let’s go eat.” 

Cas followed them to the car. “Angels don’t smoke… Wait, I don’t… I don’t eat, Dean.”

Dean patted the angel’s shoulder before he opened the car door. “That’s okay. I’ll eat for you too, wing-monkey.” 

Watching Castiel trying to figure out how to react to the insult being used in such an obviously affectionate way that even _he_ understood it made Sam snicker. It was hard imagining the angel had such power when he acted so awkwardly. He knew Dean still didn’t trust Castiel completely, but on the other hand Dean had never trusted _anyone_ (except for Sam) completely, and probably never would. Sam himself believed that after what Castiel had done, saved Dean as much as he had Sam, the angel had proved he was on their side. 

An hour later Dean had eaten unbelievable amounts of greasy food and they had tried to make heads or tails of the situation. Castiel didn’t have much to say, mostly confirming what they already knew. Sam was meant for Lucifer, but they had probably prevented that from happening. Michael wouldn’t show up unless Lucifer did. Angels were douchebags and God was MIA. And Castiel, even if it was hard for him to say out loud, believed that it was very likely Crowley somehow knew the truth about the angels. If they couldn’t make the Apocalypse happen, maybe they could bypass it and create their version of Heaven on Earth by crippling the entire human race. 

“I just wish my Father would return.” Castiel sighed. “I don't even know why he left.”

Dean gave Castiel a quick pat on the back. “He seems to be an asshole, Cas. Fuck him.”

The angel almost jumped out of his skin. “Dean! You can’t speak of God in that way!”

“Think I just did.” Dean smirked. 

_Castiel has no idea what he’s in for_ , Sam thought. He decided to save Castiel from being messed with and get to what they hadn’t dealt with yet, the question that had been on his mind since Dean told him about Cain. 

“What about the angel-wings burning my brother from the inside, Castiel? What did it mean?” Sam asked anxiously. 

“They were activated.” 

The angel certainly wasn’t chatty about this. Sam didn’t believe it had anything to do with Castiel’s intentions towards them. He just didn’t make the connections, didn’t understand that Sam wanted to know more than the simple fact that the tattoos had somehow started working like the angel had hoped they would.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I think what my brother wants to know is what does it mean for _me_? Am I some kind of semi-angel now?”

“No.” Castiel said in that deep, monotone voice that made him sound so otherworldly. “A human can’t be an angel. But they should grant you power to be a leader in the battle for freedom.” 

Dean sighed. “You said that back at Rufus’ place. Power for a true hero. But _what_ power, Cas? I know demons can’t use me as a bouncing ball anymore. Is that it? I’m not stronger or faster.”

Dean had figured that out trying to survive the fight with the demons, like he told Sam last night. He was surprisingly unscathed from that fight, mainly because the minute the demons had understood they had an angel among them, they had hardly paid Dean any attention – they would have if they knew he had an angel blade and was impossible to fling into walls. Dean's story was a bit fuzzy because his memory was – but he was sure that he had no superhuman strength, speed or any superpowers he could control at all. 

“I’m not sure, Dean. I grabbed the instruction for the blessing and ran.” Castiel was looking uncomfortable, not having more answers to give. “Heaven’s knowledge is not mine anymore, and that kind of enochian magic was never explained to me. We don’t… I didn’t get to know anything if it wasn’t necessary. An angel’s only focus has to be the current mission.”

“Good times.” Dean sunk down in his chair. “I think I might have overeaten just a tiny bit.”

“You _think_?” Sam said. “Dean, you will have bacon coming out of your ears.” Then he thought of something. “Wait. The battle for freedom? What did you mean by that, Castiel?”

“It’s supposed to be an alternative prophecy. Nobody believes in those, but they do exist.” The angel paused. “With the Heavenly sanctioned one going awry, maybe some will.”

“Wait. There’s a prophecy about me?” Dean asked, jerking out of the food coma. 

“You’re not mentioned in it as far as I know. The wings are.” Castiel answered, monotone as ever. “I thought maybe you…”

“And you didn’t think to mention this before?” Dean said. The way he said it, Sam knew how Dean felt about this – but Castiel didn’t look like he did.

“I said the wings were meant for a leader, a true hero.” 

Maybe, in the angel’s mind, _“meant for a leader”_ naturally led to _“because it says so in a prophecy.”_ Castiel seemed to think they should have been able to guess as much. 

The angel almost mumbled the next thing he had to say. “I need a leader. I’m no good on my own.” 

Dean looked like he was about to explode on Castiel, but he took a deep breath and calmed down. “On account of me not being in a place to question bad choices, and the fact that you helped me save Sam, you get a free pass this time, Cas. The last one. From now on, you tell me _everything_.” 

Sam could see the irony in Dean being furious with Castiel for telling half the truth and when he turned to his brother and gave him a look, he could see it had dawned on him too. Dean, like he’d said himself, wasn’t in a position to question that kind of behavior, especially since it seemed Castiel wasn’t fully aware of the fact that he had withheld information.

Sam didn’t know how to react to the new information. “How much do you know about this prophecy?” 

Castiel sighed. “Not much. I heard about it because it was considered a joke, a human being able to stand up to angels. But when I found the blessing, it seemed less impossible, and then I found Dean… and decided it was all I had left to try.” Castiel lit up. “And when the wings were activated, I found new hope.”

Sam bit his lip, trying to sort this out. “Don’t people write prophecies down, like in a book?” 

Castiel’s smile faded. “Yes. It should be somewhere on Earth. I would have showed it to you if I had it. False prophecies are hidden carefully.” 

Dean leaned forward. “Seems you have a mission, then.”

“You want me to search for the prophecy?” Castiel asked sincerely.

Dean did a gesture clearly expressing that Castiel shouldn’t have to ask. “Yes, I do. Great deduction there, wing-monkey.”

The angel’s deep blue eyes suddenly had a new light in them, ignoring the way Dean kept calling him wing-monkey. “I will do as you say, Dean. Will you try and be the leader it speaks of?”

“Whatever that means…” Dean sighed. “I guess I might. Could be the only game in town right now if Crowley actually told the truth.” Dean’s expression left no doubt about that he couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

This was a game changer, one they should have known about a long time ago – but maybe it’d been too weird, even for them, to believe… at least until the wings burned Dean from the inside. Sam could see the question in Dean’s eyes. His brother didn’t need to voice it for him to answer it. 

“I’ll back your play, Dean. We have to at least check it out.” 

Dean nodded. “Then I’m in for now. Cas might need a leader, Sam, but I need you.”

“You have me.” Sam meant it, but he wasn’t sure it would be enough. This was too big for them. 

Castiel straightened his back. There was something different about him; suddenly it wasn’t that hard to believe he was an immensely powerful being. “I’ll have to focus very hard to find it, Dean. I may not hear if you pray for me. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

When Castiel had vanished in thin air, Dean’s eyes were drawn to the TV. “Hey, sweetheart, would you turn that up for me?” 

The waitress flashed him a smile, clearly conveying she’d do a whole lot more than that and did what he asked. He thanked her absently and she shrugged and left. 

They watched the local newscast. 

“We have vampires.” Nobody but Dean could sound that excited about monsters. 

He was probably right. Sam could read the signs just as well as his brother by now. 

“Dean, we don’t really have the time to…” Sam began.

“Come on, Sammy. I need to do something right. I really, really need to kill some bloodsuckers.” 

Sam didn’t know what to say at first. He wouldn’t turn down a hunt either, but he thought they had bigger things to worry about right now. Then again… maybe they needed this, both of them. Do something right together. And if no other hunter caught it, they’d be responsible for people dying if they ignored it. 

“Yeah. I get that. But the second we’re done…” Sam started.

“Yeah, yeah. Back to angels and demons. Now let’s go!” Dean was itching badly for a hunt, that was obvious. Sam could understand why his brother needed to put something between him and the things he’d done, something to remind him he could still do good. 

Dean chased them out of the diner to go grab their stuff from the motel. It didn’t take them more than ten minutes to pack, get rid of the safety measures and double-check everything. When they reached the Impala, Dean opened the trunk… and suddenly froze. Sam didn't need to ask why. Last time his brother had seen the inside of the trunk, the box had been right there. 

“I got rid of it.” Sam said. 

The box was long gone, and he’d searched the car, Dean’s bags, even Dean’s clothes (which had been a good move, considering his brother had that weird pink powder stuffed in his pocket) while Dean was sleeping. 

Dean pulled him close. “Good. Wait… painkillers too?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Those weren’t the kind you promised not to touch ever again?” 

Dean swallowed hard. “They were… but what if _you_ need them? I don’t want you to…”

“I’ll deal.” Sam interrupted his brother. “My guess is that I’d probably feel they were overkill anyway.”

Dean sighed. “Maybe not a bad guess.” His brother seemed to remember something that made him tense up. “Sammy, I have to ask you for something.”

“What?” Sam was suspicious. This didn’t sound good.

“I promised Ash I would get back to him if I tried his stuff.” Dean’s voice was strained. “I keep my promises. And… Ash has always been a good friend.”

_And your dealer_ , Sam thought. _Jody didn’t seem to think he was a good friend to have at your party._

“But if you do get back to him,” Sam said, “he’ll ask you if you want more.” 

Sam, unlike Cas, was very good at reading between the lines, especially when it came to his brother.

“Yeah. He will. And… I can’t help but thinking that without… I wouldn’t have saved you.” Dean knew very well Sam would be angry with him, Sam could hear that. Not that it helped. 

“Mm-hm. And the painkillers would have been for me.” Sam shook his head in disappointment. “You don’t get to do that anymore, Dean. Explain things away and worm your way out of your promises.” 

Dean cupped his face. “I know, baby. That’s why I wanted to ask you to be there when I text Ash. Read what I write.” He kissed Sam gently. “From now on, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, even when it’s not what you want to hear. And I _will_ keep my promises.” 

“No more hiding things?” Sam wasn’t sure if it was a question or him begging Dean to remember what he had said.

Dean shook his head slowly. Sam couldn’t see what his brother was thinking, just that it was about more than the drugs. “No more hiding things. But Sammy…”

“What?” Sam said, wondering what this was about.

“If you don’t trust me, I can’t bring you on hunts. It will get us both hurt or killed.” Dean was sincere. He wasn’t trying to blackmail Sam, he was stating facts.

And he was right.

Dean had decided to take a very hard and painful road. If Sam wanted to be with him he couldn’t walk around half expecting Dean to let him down, he had to dive in and risk the pain of his trust being broken yet again. And he had to do it _now_ , not in time. Sam took a deep breath and remembered every time his brother had made him whole, been there to guide him out of his darkness. 

“I trust you.”


	35. Home Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean fight vampires with an unusual MO. 
> 
> Sidenote:  
> Work has been killing me, and that's why this one took such a long time to write. I'm off on vacation now (soo needed) so it might be a few weeks or a month before I post the next chapter, but I have a few of them outlined so they WILL keep coming :) 
> 
> And as always... Very grateful to have the amazing zombieutopia as my beta reader.

Sam ignored the way Dean was staring angrily at the “overpriced rabbit food” they had for lunch. It was nice to be at a place that was clean, smelled good and had an entire menu filled with healthy alternatives for once. His brother didn’t agree, but that wasn’t the only reason he was in a bad mood.

“I’m thinking maybe we should let the vampires eat them all.” Dean grumbled. “Give them what they want.”

Sam enjoyed the deliciously cooked vegetables too much to let Dean’s mood affect his own; his answer was patient and calm. “They don’t want to die like that, Dean.” 

“That’s not what they say.” Dean glared at the grilled seitan he’d violently impaled on his fork like it was responsible for the fact that people wanted to be eaten. 

“They don’t understand what they are asking for.” Sam said. “You do. That’s a big difference.” 

Dean had let him do most of the talking since they started posing as volunteer grief counselors, and that was probably a good thing. His brother was a great liar but people in mourning still responded better to someone who’s empathy was genuine. Offering their support to the families, reading diaries and blog posts, Sam felt sad that the victims hadn’t gotten the help they needed. At least some of them should’ve been on suicide watch, not at home with their loving but seemingly clueless families. Dean’s anger about what was happening prevented him from seeing what had led up to this tragic situation, but Sam could read the signs of a slow death starting long before the vampires ever showed up.

This wasn’t a very hard case to crack; they had known before they rolled into town they were dealing with vampires. Two teenagers had been found drained of blood and now three more had gone missing. But the way the vampires hunted their victims down… that was unexpected and getting on Dean’s nerves.

The dead and the missing all had one thing in common: They’d left what was perceived as suicide notes before they disappeared. The police were on high alert thinking they had some kind of cult on their hands, one that let the kids commit suicide by proxy. Suicide notes or not, they hadn’t drained themselves of blood. The whispers around the (seemingly) idyllic suburb was that the cult worshipped vampires. The wounds and the notes certainly suggested something like that.

_Don’t miss me. My heart is filled with longing and I will find the forever night soon. It will be a sweet release._

_This is my destiny, and I go willingly into it, like the moon rests behind the clouds I will rest in darkness. There is nothing more for me here._

The Winchesters were in total agreement with the police about the theory that cruel predators had chosen to prey on vulnerable young people who were all diagnosed with clinical depression. When it came to who these predators could be, the police had no idea what they were up against. 

Dean hated the fact that the teenagers gave monsters such an easy way to kill and feed. He mumbled angrily a while longer about that, but then his voice softened. “Sweetness, I know we’ve been talking about suicide a lot today. Does it bother you?”

Sam touched one of the scars reminding him of what he’d done to escape from the nightmare he’d been put through at Melanie’s. “You mean because I did this?” 

Dean shoved his barely touched food to the side and caught Sam’s wrists, holding them gently. “Yes, babe. Just checking in.” 

Sam sighed. “I’m fine, Dean.” 

“You sure?” Dean said, gently pressuring Sam to tell the truth. 

Sam shrugged, but he let Dean keep his wrists. “I guess it can be tough to listen to the stories. Reminds me of how it felt.”

There was no reason to try denying it affected him. His brother would coax him into talking about it sooner or later anyway. Having that in the past was one thing. Being forced to face it again and again was another, and Dean needed to know how he felt to help; Sam would do the same if the tables were turned.

“And I’m not making it any better.” Dean said. “I’ll stop.” He sighed. “It’s just that… I get _you_. But why do these kids decide they want to be _eaten_?” 

A sad smile ghosted around the corners of Sam’s mouth. “Why did you do drugs? There’s this thing called overdose, you know.”

“I had reasons.” Dean’s anger was gone and Sam was drawn into those green eyes that assured him Dean was listening because Sam needed him to. 

“Would you ask someone with pneumonia why they got it? It’s a disease, Dean. Maybe we’re the lucky ones because we can change the reasons.” Sam said sincerely.

“I guess you’re right, sweetness.” Dean said, scratching the back of his head. “Just drives me crazy thinking about teenagers wrapping themselves up as happy meals for home delivery.”

Sam shrugged. “Imagine feeling like you did after Crowley made you kill that guy. Every day.”

“That _would_ suck.” Dean leaned forward. “You tell me if you need me to do this one alone, right, Sammy baby?”

“Don’t worry, Dean.” It wasn’t pleasant being reminded of his past, but it wouldn’t stop him from killing vampires who preyed on the weak. Maybe, if he could stop them, other families would get the help their children so desperately needed. A scare like this one could make parents read up on depression, talk to their kids. With a little luck, they could help save lives the vampires wouldn’t have taken even if they weren’t hunted down and killed. 

Dean gently traced the scars that Sam had tried to hide when they were first reunited, silently reassuring him Dean would always be there, never thinking that Sam was weak or stupid no matter how much his brother was grumbling about what was happening here.

“We have to go undercover, Sammy. My bet is that stupid I-love-vampires-place is where we’ll find answers.” He leaned even closer to Sam. “Talking to those people might be a trigger for you.”

“Well, if Maya’s sister was right about that place, there might be triggers there for you too.” Sam said.

“I’ll be fine if you are.” Dean let Sam go with a sigh, sliding his plate back. “I’ll just win this fight first, and then we’ll go shopping. I think they have a dress code there.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you vampire-groupie style.” Sam snickered.

“Hm. Might have some stuff in the car.” Dean thought out loud as he grabbed the fork and started shoving the loathed nutritional meal into his mouth.

Sam would have sat down if he was standing up. “You have clothes like that?!”

“Been to a lot of gigs.” Dean smiled in a rare moment of nostalgia, and then kept chewing in an impressive pace.

Sam was puzzled. “I’ve never seen you like that.” 

“Because I know I’ll go home with the person I want, babe. You saw me in eyeliner at the circus. That shit works.” His brother did that charming little shrug with the accompanying annoyingly sexy smile, which didn’t work quite as well when he had a mouth full of food. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean didn’t need any eyeliner. 

Not very surprisingly, that night Sam concluded Dean had been right. That shit did work, but so did almost everything when Dean put it on. That cocky self-assuredness was annoying sometimes but it helped Dean look good in whatever he was dressed in. Sam didn’t have that kind of self-confidence, and it didn’t feel any better when his brother gave him a surprised and mischievous smile. 

“Stop staring at me. Do I look that ridiculous?” 

The motel didn’t have a full body mirror and Sam was glad about that. He had no desire to see himself in this dark goth-style because he had to try and be comfortable in it; better not to know exactly what he looked like if he wanted to succeed in that endeavor.

Dean’s smile widened as he grabbed Sam’s fishnet long sleeve shirt and pulled him close. 

“No, sweetness. I have a few other words that comes to mind, though.” His brother eyed him shamelessly. “Don’t get vampire blood on those because you are keeping them.” 

That husky voice… more effective than any clothes or eyeliner. 

Dean’s hands hungrily exploring his body in its new garments made Sam whimper. “Stop, Dean, I don’t… I have to concentrate on the case, not think about _this_ all night.” 

“You?” His brother pushed him back against the wall. “I might have a little problem with that myself.” Dean murmured in his ear. 

His brother was kissing him, one hand playing with his nipple through the fishnet and the other one squeezing his ass in the embarrassingly tight leather pants. 

“Too fast, baby? Want me to slow down?” Dean was breathy, raw want in his eyes. 

“Does it _seem_ like I want you to slow down?” Sam managed to say. The way his body reacted, it should be obvious to anyone that he had absolutely no problem trying something else than a slow build-up making him beg.

“Damnit, Sammy, wanna fuck you against this wall.” Dean bit his shoulder. “Make you come on my cock, babe, right fucking now.” 

Sam gasped. “Fuck…” It felt so good. And they didn’t have to leave quite yet. “Fuck yes. Now.”

The rest of it was just as good, leaving Sam ravaged and content and utterly happy. They barely had time to get ready for the second time if they wanted to get there early, otherwise he would’ve liked to stay in Dean’s arms all night. 

A few hours later they had scouted the place, ending up at the bar to compare notes. It was just as cliché as one could expect from a place called “Club Transylvania”, located in a mostly deserted area outside the city, with old industrial buildings surrounding it. Club Transylvania itself had been a warehouse and was very sparsely decorated, smelling of mold and chemicals. The fact that they had seen no officers of the law, uniformed or otherwise, was proof of crappy police work on this case. 

“I hate this place.” Dean said and waved to get a drink.

Sam could see his brother was on his way to give the bartender one of his trademark smiles but remembering that here, smiling was banned. You had to be melancholic and melodramatic, having stilted conversations with other people trying to be darker and broodier than you. It was depressing… but sneaking a peak at Dean squirming and struggling to play along had been very funny. Now they were watching the crowd, speaking low enough not to be heard over the goth music matching the mood of the guests. 

“Me too,” Sam said, “but I think I got what we need.” 

“Makes two of us.” Dean downed a whiskey. 

Sam glanced at him. “Drinking on the job, big brother?”

“It’s medicinal, Sammy, these people make me want to hit them.” Dean growled, tapping the glass to get another one. 

Sam held back a laugh and shook his head. “I think it’s this guy Marius.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “I heard he brings you to the ‘children of the night’ to be eaten. Or _reborn_.” He scoffed.

“I mean, that name… It’s so pretentious.” Sam sighed. “But it fits in here. Wonder if he read the book or just rented the movie.”

“What?” Dean said.

“You know, the Vampire Chronicles? At least it’s better than Twilight.” Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean looked utterly confused. “What language are you speaking, Sammy?” 

Sam realized Dean might have read every book there was on actual real vampires, but the literary versions weren’t known to him. Just like Dean could read Latin forwards and backwards but didn’t know the first thing about the Roman Empire. 

“I’ll explain later.” 

Right then, a guy that had to be Marius walked in and Sam felt Dean grab his arm to make him look, which was totally unnecessary. It was impossible not to notice how the crowd reacted to his arrival or the difference between what they immediately assumed must be a vampire and the vampire wannabes. Marius had pale skin and moved like the predator he was, sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of trying-too-hard teenagers.

Over the next few hours, Sam watched Dean get more and more impatient while they held a low profile, observing Marius being treated like a demi-god by the inner circle at the club.

“ _Finally._ ” Dean said. “He’s leaving.” 

Sam was troubled. “But not alone.”

Two guys dressed in all black were following Marius out. 

“Damnit.” Dean growled. “If we kill the vampire, he won’t lead us to his nest.”

Sam sighed. “And if we don’t, they might eat those guys if we can’t get in there in time.”

“There might be three more happy meals in there, Sammy.” 

Sam could tell Dean was conflicted about this. There was no good option here. Kill the vampire or trying to kidnap it to get the location of the nest might tip the others off and make them leave. Not killing it meant they had to go in once they got there, and fast. Dean didn’t want a fair fight which meant he didn’t want to rush in. But that still seemed to be the best choice. Dean sighed and gestured for Sam to follow this Marius out. 

Sam had thought a vampire would be hard to stalk, but this one seemed so sure of himself they could’ve tap-danced around him without raising any red flags. Twenty minutes later, Marius disappeared into an old, trey industrial building.

“Cas? If you can hear me, I pray to you to come here.” Dean whispered, but nothing happened. He didn’t pause for more than a few seconds, knowing that Cas would show up immediately or not at all. 

“Go-time, Sammy. Ready?” Dean’s words told one story, the tone of his voice another. Dean would’ve preferred going in alone, Sam knew that. His brother’s instincts to keep him out of harm’s way had made a comeback after Sam was kidnapped but Dean knew better than trying to order him to stay behind. If this was going to work they couldn’t go backwards. 

“Ready.”

The door didn’t put up much of a fight. The hallway behind it was dark and smelled even worse than Club Transylvania, killing any last doubt about this building not being used anymore. They followed faint sounds of talking and laughing through the dark halls, all senses on high alert. The big room they finally arrived at was easy to sneak into, filled with old machinery. In the empty space at the end of the room they saw the two vampire wannabes who’d by now realized the promises of romantic dark nights weren’t true. The corpses of their friends told the true story of what would happen to them. 

There were six vampires in all which was better than they had hoped for. It looked like they didn’t have time to do a sweep of the place, so Sam silently prayed that there weren’t more vampires somewhere else in the building. He answered Dean’s nod and pulled out the tranq gun filled up on dead man’s blood and the machete. Big leather coats were good for hiding things. 

Two of the vampires went down immediately thanks to the poisonous darts, but there was still four of them left. The calm that always came over Sam in a fight slowed his heartbeat and he felt more than saw how Dean chopped one head off almost at the same time he decapitated one of the other vampires. Then he heard Dean yell.

“Get down, Sammy!” 

He didn’t have time to react before he was tackled by his brother as a gunshot started echoing in his ears. One of the vampires had decided fangs weren’t enough – she’d pulled a gun on them. 

“Got you now, fucking hunter assholes!” The vampire growled with pure hate in her eyes.

For a split second Sam believed they were both about to die, but then one of the victims jumped the vampire with the gun, saving them. He saw the other one left standing throw his brother into one of the old machines, taking advantage of the fact that Dean was off balance. Sam came up from behind and beheaded him before he had time to sink his fangs into Dean, then turned around to charge the vampire with the gun.

He wouldn’t have made it if Dean hadn’t grabbed his gun and emptied the whole clip into her. It didn’t hurt her much, especially since Dean’s aim was way off. Normally Dean would’ve aimed for the head, but the bullets hit the vampire in a scattered pattern, one of them missing the target completely. It still bought Sam enough time to get the upper hand. He barely had time to see her head hit the ground before he was back at Dean’s side. 

“Dean! Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Dean groaned, touching his shoulder and then turning his palm upwards. It was wet with blood. “Damnit.” 

“You’re bleeding!” Sam said with a shrill in his voice, stating the obvious in a near-panic.

“That happens when you get shot, Sammy.” Dean tried to get up and whitened with pain. “You need to wrap this up and then we need to go.” 

When Sam didn’t move, cold sweat dripping down his body and his heart racing with anxiety, his brother growled at him. “Now, Sam!”

The order helped Sam pull himself together. He knew what had to be done before they could leave, and after giving Dean his t-shirt to press against the wound he got back up to do it. Dean needed him to, because the older Winchester clearly wasn’t in the shape to do much of anything. 

Not twenty minutes later, he’d helped Dean get up and out to the Impala where he carefully, and with the help of Sam, got in the passenger seat. Sam pulled out of the parking lot, hoping the teenagers inside would give them a head start before calling the cops as agreed.

“Dean, we have to go to the hospital.” Sam was glancing worriedly at his brother, pressing Sam’s blood-soaked t-shirt against his shoulder. 

“No, sweetness. Known faces, six dead bodies. Simple through-and-through.” Dean’s voice was strained. 

“Call Cas again.” 

Sam had to work hard to concentrate on traffic, getting them out of there as fast as he could. He was scared and he wasn’t ashamed of it; Dean was seriously hurt and even if he tried to hide it, Sam could see every bump or turn caused pain.

“He can’t hear me, Sammy. Like he said.” 

Dean was right, of course. He had tried when Sam had half-carried him out to the car, and no angel. There wasn’t much hope Castiel would hear them a few minutes later, but Sam urged Dean to try anyway. It didn’t work that time either. None of them doubted Cas couldn’t hear and would have come if he could.

Sam swallowed and tried to calm down. “What do we do now?”

Dean glared at his shoulder as if he could will it to stop bleeding. “Find a place… to stitch me up. Then get us… far away… from here.”

The adrenaline Dean had obviously been running on was fading, judging by the increase in pain his brother was showing.

“That’s called a hospital, Dean.” 

Dean shook his head. “Told you no. You’ll do it.” 

Sam bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair. Dean was telling him what they were going to do, not putting it up for discussion. He desperately tried to find an alternative but couldn’t find one. Bringing Dean in like this would certainly result in a call to the police. 

When they stopped at the side of the road, Sam watched his brother cautiously. It hadn’t been the biggest part of his training, but he did know the basics of the human body. 

“Your ribs are broken.” 

“One problem… at a time. Fix me up.” 

Sam stared at his brother, a cold hand squeezing his heart. “You said we might need painkillers. And now…”

“We don’t have any. What we also… don’t have… is time.” 

When Sam didn’t move, Dean lost his patience, growling at him. “Get to it, Sam, or do I have to try myself?” 

“You don’t… happen to have a stash I don’t know about? I know I shouldn’t even ask, but I’m desperate here, Dean.”

“I don’t… lie to you. Don’t have any. Won’t take any. The end.”

Sam wanted to take back what he’d asked. The way Dean looked at him, disappointed and hurt… it made him regret it with all his heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Now… who’s lying?” Dean asked. 

Sam sighed and willed himself to be calm and his hands to stop trembling. He had practiced stitches and pressure bandages, and now he had to use that training. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied he would’ve been surprised about how well he handled the amateur surgery. When he was done, he bandaged Dean’s ribs tight.

“You good… to drive?” Dean asked. 

“You’re not good to be _moved_ , Dean. You need to rest.” Sam tried to convince his brother even if he knew the chances were slim at best. 

Dean scoffed and couldn’t help but wince in pain. “Yeah. Later.”

“Please. You’re really hurt, Dean.” Sam was begging now.

The faintest of smiles played across Dean’s face. “Hadn’t noticed. Now drive.” 

It was obvious Sam wouldn’t get anywhere. All he could do was try to drive carefully and hope he’d cleaned the wounds well enough to keep infections away.


	36. We need to talk about Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam returns to Jody's and Claire is not sure how she feels about that.
> 
> (I'm sorry it took me forever to post this one! I'm back from my vacation and from my post-vacation blues and promise not to keep you waiting too long for the next chapter.)

Waiting for the Winchesters to arrive, Claire Novak’s aching head was filled with echoes from the conversation she’d had with Jody and Charlie the day before. She was trying to busy herself with cleaning an already clean kitchen, because the things that actually needed to be done had been checked off the list already – anything to keep her mind off things. It didn’t work.

Minutes later, Charlie walked into the kitchen huffing and puffing, dropping a stack of pizza boxes on the table and trying to find a way to do the same with the bottles of soda she had wedged under each arm. Claire saved them before they fell to the floor. Touching Charlie, even for a brief second, did make her think about something except for the Winchester’s arrival this afternoon. It didn’t make her feel any better, though. Jody followed Charlie in and put the grocery bags down on the floor.

“It’ll be okay, Claire, I promise.” Jody put a hand on her shoulder, always knowing when support and comforting was needed even if Claire couldn’t express it in words… and even if Claire told her to back off, which she’d done more than once. She’d never ever abandon Jody. Not even if Jody decided to forgive Dean for what he’d done to them… and for all the things Jody had told them about the day before. 

_“We need to talk about Dean before he gets here. He won’t like me telling you his secrets, but I’d say he’s lost his right to ask me to keep them.”_

Jody had told her and Charlie all she knew. The stories she’d shared and the accompanying whiskey had resulted in nausea, a throbbing headache and confusion. She’d once believed Dean was a loyal friend, a loving brother and an accomplished hunter always ready to help others… in short, a good person (even if he was annoyingly self-confident). Now, she thought that might all be an act hiding the fact that he really was a psychopath with a substance addiction who killed people for a living. 

_“How can he do those things and still be so warm hearted and easy to talk to?”_

_“I don’t know, Charlie, and honestly, I’ve always been scared he won’t come back from it one day.”_

_“But he always has, hasn’t he?”_

_“Charlie, honey… I strongly suspect there’s a lot of details he has chosen to forget the last few years. He’s talking less and less to me and there_ will _be a point of no return. I would like him to turn back before he gets there. And if you’d find it in your hearts… I would love to get some help to make that happen.”_

At that point in the conversation, Claire had questioned Jody’s take on the situation. Even if Dean had been a good person at some point in his life – what said he could be after all he’d done, no matter if he’d been forced to do it? What he did to Adrianna had been entirely his choice. Claire had crossed her arms and leaned back with an angry glare, making it clear that she wasn’t about to forgive someone on basis of a bad childhood. Would she have forgiven whoever killed her parents if they had been human and had a fucked-up life? No. 

What made it even worse was that Dean was her best friend’s brother, and that Sam would never leave him. Maybe they’d all been manipulated by a world-class liar to believe that it was okay that Dean had made his seventeen-year-old brother love him like no brother should. Sam had been vulnerable when Dean found him and she was sure Dean was smart enough to use that. Get Sam to believe he couldn’t live without Dean, and then _make_ them believe he’d helped Sam out of love and not a selfish need to be accompanied by someone who idolized and loved him unconditionally.

_“He’s not a psychopath, Claire. If he was, he wouldn’t have panicked like that.”_

_“Does it matter, Jody? Shouldn’t he rot in a cell for the rest of his life for what he has done?”_

It was all too much, and she couldn’t even talk to Charlie about it because Charlie made her heart ache. Stupid Charlie with her stupid charm who got all the stupid girls she wanted. Not that Charlie had ever treated her badly in any way, she’d never been nothing but sweet and loving and supportive. It was just that Charlie wasn’t interested in keeping some things just for Claire, and Claire couldn’t come to terms with the idea of sharing those things. It hurt too much. And that made it difficult to talk to Charlie…. or to be around her, or to even look at her.

_“All the people he has saved, all the hunters he has helped… it doesn’t make the other things okay, but there’s more than one side to this story. You remember that when he gets here.”_

It would’ve been so much easier if there wasn’t, if she could just hate Dean. If there weren’t signs that he’d been a good person stuck in a horrible life. Using drugs to numb one’s feelings was unnecessary if one didn’t have them. Why would Dean risk losing control like that? And why would he risk his life over and over again to help people? Surely there must be an excessive amount of people far more gullible than hunters if his goal was to make people think he had a heart. Maybe he did have one. But still… could the fact that he saved lives really make up for murder one, repeated over the years?

Claire helped carry the dinner up to the kids who were told to stay away for the time being. The fact that none of them had complained about having pizza and watching TV upstairs reminded her of the situation they were in. Claire thought some of them would’ve fled the house if they had somewhere to go. A storm was coming and it was impossible to predict the fallout; it would’ve triggered a full blown anxiety attack if she hadn’t found better strategies to fight it… which she’d done with Sam’s help. Sam, who might have bigger problems than anxiety to deal with even if he didn’t see that himself. With all these thoughts bouncing around in her head she barely heard what the kids said to her before she went back downstairs. 

When Claire saw the Impala driving down the dirt road to Jody’s house, she wished for more time to be prepared to face Dean. She wasn’t ready… but would she ever be? Right now, she had no choice but to do it because no way she’d back down and stay with the kids. She followed Jody and Charlie out the door even if her legs were shaking and her heart was racing. 

This time none of them rushed to welcome Sam and Dean back. They stood there, arms crossed, watching Sam get out of the driver’s seat and get his bag from the trunk as his brother rounded the hood of the car. Dean seemed to be as hesitant as Claire about this, moving slowly and stiffly, far from his normal swagger. She hoped with all of her heart that the fucking asshole dreaded being here as much as she dreaded having him here. That would imply that he had feelings after all, though. _If I’m even considering forgiving a serial killer because he’s a good guy sometimes, what does that make me?_ Claire thought. She decisively planted her feet on the ground, refusing to show how bad this situation made her feel by moving around nervously. 

Sam threw his bag on the ground, closed the trunk and walked up to his brother who was now standing by the car door Sam had left open. He said something that Claire couldn’t make out (maybe “you’re sure?”) and Dean nodded once. Then Sam put his arms around Dean, very carefully, and did something Claire had never seen him do; he kissed his brother in a way that was anything but brotherly. Dean didn’t stop Sam, but it was plain to see this wasn’t his idea. This was the younger Winchester making sure they knew that he would give them all up if he had to choose between them and his brother. Claire sighed. The odds of making Sam see his brother in a different light seemed to be impossibly high. 

Then Sam went to pick up his bag and Claire watched him do it, thinking about how much better he’d made her life, always there to talk to when she needed it. Their shared experiences had somehow made her capable of opening up like she’d never done before, not even with Jody. _I don’t know how to be there for_ him _now_ , she thought.

“Oh no, no, no you don’t!” Claire heard Jody utter in anger. Before she could figure out why Jody was suddenly furious the ex-sheriff had rushed up to Dean.

“Jody! No!” Sam called out.

It was too late, Jody had already grabbed Dean’s shoulder and yanked him backwards to prevent him from getting in the car; apparently Dean wasn’t planning on staying. The older Winchester whitened, groaned in pain and cursed under his breath. The reason he’d moved so carefully wasn’t that he was nervous, it was because he was hurt. Jody’s hand dropped and she backed up a step.

“Dean?” Jody asked, still angry but also worried. 

“What?” Dean said, pale and tense, one hand on the car for balance.

“You’re planning on driving like that? Are you really that desperate to run from this?” 

Jody wasn’t swayed easily, which Claire was grateful for. She wouldn’t be more lenient just because Dean was injured. Claire exchanged a look with Charlie as they closed the distance to Jody. It seemed Charlie was just as determined to be a part of whatever happened as she was. 

Being this close to Dean wasn’t what Claire would’ve wanted but she wouldn’t let him dictate her actions. _I hope it hurts like hell_ , Claire thought. She tried to project that thought instead of the insecurity she felt, keeping her arms crossed. 

“You okay? The stitches held?” Sam asked quietly. 

“Think so.” Dean said, still a bit pale. 

“Stitches? What happened?” Jody asked. 

“He placed himself between me and a bullet is what happened.” Sam’s eyes were still fixated on his brother. “And then he was thrown into some kind of machine and broke his ribs. So… just don’t touch him.” 

Claire believed that most of Sam’s anger probably came from worry, but she still didn’t like how Sam defended his brother. Dean didn’t deserve it, not even if he was the reason Sam was here to make any decisions at all. 

“I’ll be fine, Sammy.” Dean let the car go and put his hand on Sam’s arm in a calming gesture. 

Jody looked at them curiously. “Since when do ghosts carry guns?” She sounded suspicious.

“Wasn’t the ghost, Jody. It was the vampires before the ghost.” Sam said, finally turning his eyes from Dean to Jody.

“He went on a _hunt_ like that? Dean, you went on a _hunt_ like that?” Jody exclaimed. 

Dean shook his head slightly. “Sasha needed help. Sam did the heavy lifting.” 

Jody scoffed. “Still stupid, kid. Like leaving here, doing nothing to make amends for what you’ve done.” 

Claire was following the conversation closely, looking for signs that could help her decide how she was going to handle the situation. Dean looked weary and sad. There was no trace of the cold hearted monster inside him. This version of Dean Winchester was ashamed of what he’d done and waiting for the consequences to hit him hard. Claire tilted her head slightly trying to analyze him. 

“Wasn’t sure you wanted me here.” Dean mumbled. “Thought Sam could talk to you first.”

Jody crossed her arms. “Or you sent him to soften the blow because you don’t really want to admit to what you’ve done. How you violated our trust and used us to get to Adrianna.” 

Dean’s lower lip trembled for a second and Claire was suddenly reminded that he wasn’t more than twenty-two years old, barely a grown-up. The bad childhood she wouldn’t let him use as an excuse wasn’t that far away. 

“I’ll stay if you say so. Try doing whatever you want me to do.” Dean said, without hope in his voice or in his posture. He was speaking shakily, like he couldn’t say more than three words in a row without taking a little break in between. It must be the injury… or maybe he faked it to gain sympathy? 

_“Try?_ Like you _tried_ to stay away from drugs?” 

“I...” Dean paused and glanced at Sam, who caught his hand, clearly urging him to go on.

“If you don’t want to change, Dean, you never will.” Jody was giving Dean an icy stare, so cold Claire took an involuntary step back. Dean stood his ground, keeping eye contact, even if he was visibly shaken by the way Jody looked at him. Claire gave him a crooked smile saying she liked the way Jody was treating him. If he noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it in any way. 

“I…” Dean grimaced. “Sammy, maybe I was wrong.” 

Claire understood what he meant when Sam carefully pulled back Dean’s leather jacket and flannel shirt. The older Winchester looked down and swore silently as he saw the white t-shirt slowly turning red, spreading out from the shoulder. _Hurts significantly less than the knee, which I know only because of your cruelty, you psycho asshole_ , she thought. Maybe Dean had told the truth about getting paid for killing off bad guys… but Adrianna had been a hunter, a good person, and what he’d done to her… She glared at him and wished she could pull off a stare like Jody’s.

Jody shook her head when she saw the blood. “Inside.” 

She started walking, confident that the Winchesters would follow, and when they got inside, that Dean would sit down in the chair she pointed him towards while she sent Charlie to get the well-equipped first aid kit. Dean was far from the first hunter she’d treated in her kitchen. 

“T-shirt off, kid.” 

Dean didn’t want to cooperate. “Sam can take care of it, Jody. No big deal.” 

“T-shirt. Off.” Jody showed no interest in alternative solutions and no doubt whether Dean would do as she said or not. Watching her push him around like this without any hint of him going postal was comforting. His dark side wasn’t triggered by conflict.

Dean sighed and let Sam help him undress even if it was plain to see he was uncomfortable doing so with an audience. Claire knew it had nothing to do with him taking his clothes off because he’d never had a problem with flaunting the results of a lifetime building muscles before. He had nothing to gain from withholding his level of injury so she put that in the Dean-has-feelings-column for now. Claire was leaning against the wall where she had a clear view of Dean and Jody. She was on edge, ready to practice some of that stuff Jody had taught her. Her body told her to stand up and be ready to defend herself even if it seemed unlikely anything would happen here. 

“Where did you go for this?” Jody said while carefully examining the wound. “Seems a bit amateurish.” 

“It was my first time.” Sam said. “I did my best.”

Jody made Dean press a clean cloth against the wound and turned to Sam. “For a first time it’s damn impressive, Sam.” 

Sam seemed to ignore the kind tone the compliment was given in. “Dean taught me.”

He almost provoked Jody to dare say something bad about his brother. Claire’s shoulders slumped a little bit. She wanted Sam to at least consider the possibility Dean wasn’t good for him, or for anyone, even if she wouldn’t tell him how to live his life. Dean didn’t have the right to do that… and neither had she. She pursed her lips and found herself a few steps closer to Sam, wanting to help even if she wasn’t sure what to say. At least, by standing next to him, she showed him she was on his side. Sam gave her a pale smile before his eyes turned back to Dean. 

Jody pointed at the tight bandages. “You can’t keep those, Dean. If you don’t breathe properly you’ll get pneumonia.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, I know. Sam tells me every other minute. Those were for driving.”

“Well, they’re coming off when we’re done. Sam, you want to do this?”

Sam shrugged tiredly. “I’m kind of exhausted from the drive and maybe you should fix what you caused.” 

“I’m sorry about that. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have yanked him like that, and you know that, Sam.” 

Sam sighed and gave Jody a little nod. “Yeah.”

Claire couldn’t stand how bad her best friend seemed to feel. She sneaked her hand into Sam’s and he let her. Since he’d always been able to read her like an open book he must understand that her support was for him and not a sign of forgiving his brother. It was a dance on the edge of a knife she attempted to pull off; convincing Sam she was on his side without giving up on making them all remember who, or what, Dean was. 

“Okay then. This will hurt, kid. You need a refill of whatever you’re taking for the pain?” Jody asked without a hint of groveling because of what she’d done. She’d said she was sorry and she’d meant it but that was it. Jody clearly wouldn’t let what had happened affect how she’d handle Dean’s return.

Dean shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? I’d be okay with painkillers right now.” Jody’s tone was far from soft, but she let him know she wouldn’t give him shit about using when it was clearly needed. If Dean was a professional liar Jody was his opposite; Claire never had to doubt what she meant. 

Sam laughed dryly. “Since he hasn’t so far, he won’t now.” 

“Nothing? Not even when Sam stitched you up the first time?” Jody asked cautiously. Claire knew why Jody was suspicious – she’d admitted that she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure Dean wasn’t lying when he really made an effort. But Sam wouldn’t lie, not even to make Jody forgive Dean, Claire was sure of it. 

“Oh, I would have, but I quit all the ones that actually does something.” Dean sighed. “Crappy timing.”

Sam gently put his free hand on Deans arm. “I hate seeing him hurt like this but I’m proud of him. You should be too, Jody.” 

“That’s good. Not good enough, though.” Jody washed her hands and got ready to mend the stitches. 

Sam waited until she turned back and he could look her in the eye again. “This time there’s no ‘try’, Jody. He quit the jobs too, and he’s been open about every single thing even when I kind of didn’t want him to. So, about that wanting to change…” 

Jody carefully tried to fix the damage she had caused. “That courtesy extends to me too, kid? Because I sure as hell would like to get the _whole_ truth from now on.” 

Dean groaned in pain as he was trying to answer. “It does, but you’ll wish it didn’t.” 

Jody stopped for a second. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean scoffed, a tear trickling down his cheek. “This fight... Either you’re with me or you’re not.” He drew a shaky breath. ”And… there are a few things I never told you. I need to come clean about them before you decide.” 

“If there’s more than Jody told us, you should burn in hell for all eternity.” Claire barked at him. “No, wait, you should anyway.” 

It felt good letting it out, to dare defy Dean and tell him what she thought about him, even if she was more unsure about her feelings now than she’d been that morning. Sam let go of her hand, and she knew she’d lose him entirely if she kept this up. She made herself meet Sam’s eyes, afraid he might antagonize her over this. His expression told Claire that he understood where she came from but also that he wouldn’t accept her take on Dean. 

Dean twitched. “You…”

“I did, Dean. All I know. They’re in this fight too.” Jody said flatly. There would be no “sorry” about sharing Dean’s secret, that was plain to see.

“We deserve to know who we’re dealing with. And I don’t care about your claims to be an innocent pawn in this.” Claire’s voice was steadier now. She didn’t look at Sam while she was speaking.

Dean grimaced in pain as Jody finished up. “It… makes the story shorter, I guess. And Claire… yeah, I should burn in hell. But… I never said I’m not to blame for what I’ve done.” 

Jody gave Claire a pale smile. “I can confirm to that, Claire. He never said anything like that.” 

Claire opened her mouth as to say something, but closed it again. She’d shared her thoughts and she wasn’t about to argue up to the point where she’d definitely lose Sam, especially not since Dean had pretty much waved the white flag already. She let Jody continue the conversation without any more outbursts.

“Kid, if you’re playing me, I’ll fucking kill you.” Jody said, lowering her voice an octave. “Don’t promise me the truth if you don’t mean it.”

“Like I said, you’ll wish I didn’t.” 

Jody hummed, redressed the wound and started to take the bandages off. Dean stared up in the roof, seemingly pretending he wasn’t there. When Jody exposed his black and blue upper body Claire gasped and leaned forward looking at the result of Dean shielding his little brother. She bit her lip. Like Jody had said, there were more than one side to this story. 

“Are you sure you’re breathing deep enough, kid? This looks bad, even by hunter standards.” Jody was definitely worried now.

“I am. Hurts like hell.” Dean sighed. “I’d hoped Cas would’ve flied by to heal me by now.”

“And why hasn’t he?” Jody asked with a furrowed brow.

Claire hoped the angel would wait a while longer, not only because she felt better with Dean incapacitated and hurting, but also because she had no wish to come face to face with her father’s walking corpse ever again. It made her insides twist until she couldn’t breathe. 

Dean sighed. “Might as well tell you the whole story now. All three of you, I guess.”

An hour later it was dead silent in Jody’s living room. Dean, with help from Sam, had told them what happened during the hunt for Sam and then about the part of his life he desperately wanted to forget, using whatever Ash told him would do the trick. Jody knew most of it, but Dean had conveniently skipped the parts he’d buried the deepest – not only killing, but torturing people… Jody seemed sad but not surprised. Thinking about it, Claire realized that was probably because what he’d done to Adrianna strongly implied that he’d done things like that before. What he had to say about the other times was painful to hear. Claire could see how much it hurt Jody to think about her carefree kid as a well-trained torturer.

Her own focus had been mainly on Sam, watching him help Dean tell the parts of the story that he really didn’t want to share. He didn’t even flinch when Dean told them about his grisly actions, but he seemed damned worried about how Dean reacted to Jody’s pain and disappointment. Sure, he’d heard the stories before… but still. 

“We’ll go downstairs,” Dean finally said, “let you talk.” 

When Sam had helped him up and they’d left, it stayed quiet. _This can’t be happening, it can’t be real_ , Claire thought. It was too much. The angel wearing her dad’s corpse might show up to magically heal the serial killer who allegedly was the only one who could save the fucking world from angels and demons who had decided to go to war. And now they had to pick sides… and she had to decide if she was ready to lose Sam by not forgiving his brother. 

“Girls.” Jody said seriously. It seemed like she was expecting a long discussion. 

“I want to help him.” Charlie blurted out, like she was scared she wouldn’t get to say it if she didn’t hurry. “He’s telling the truth, I can feel it, and it’s lining up with the demon chatter… I know he did horrible things… but we have to help.” She looked down, almost mumbling the last part. “And he’s still my friend.” 

Claire twitched at the sound of that. Friend? Then she sighed, because she knew the decision was made for her. Without Sam and Charlie (however much pain she caused) her life would be too empty to bear. “I guess I’ll help too then, Char. Won’t leave you alone.” 

Charlie lit up. “Really?”

Claire scoffed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever trust the guy.” She looked into Charlie’s honest, heartbreakingly brave eyes. Charlie never gave up the search for whatever had killed her parents, never stopped trying, not even locked up in a mental institution. She wouldn’t give this up either. “But if you say that all the crazy stuff is true, and you want to fight in this fucked-up war… I’m with _you_ , Charlie.” 

Jody smiled. “I guess I’m stupid… but he’ll always be my kid. I’m glad I got you by my side, girls.” Then she got serious. “I think we need to set some conditions for this to work.”

“You bet your ass.” Claire said. “I’m not handing myself over as GI Jane just like that.”


	37. Always a first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam get an answer and a visit they've been waiting for,
> 
> Hey guys! My life has been totally chaotic for a while, but I love writing this story and I won't abandon it. It's very motivating knowing how many of you have subscribed and I hope you're all happy to get another chapter :) Any comments appreciated.
> 
> Det går så klart bra att kommentera på svenska också om det hänger någon annan svensk här :)  
> (Would be fun to know if there's Swedes who just happen to read the story, which I guess is pretty unlikely, but who knows...)

Sam was a bit disoriented when he woke up. He blinked and remembered; he was at Jody’s. He’d had problems falling asleep last night, wondering how long it’d take Jody and the girls to make a decision. Waiting, even if only for one night, was excruciating. This house had been the first place that felt like home for such a long time. He didn’t want to lose it… but whatever Dean said, he would never set foot in a place where they weren’t both welcome. If Jody decided to abandon her “kid” because he’d panicked and made some stupid choices Sam simply couldn’t be around her anymore.

“Morning, babe.” Dean smiled, which clearly took some effort. “You’re cute even when you snore, you know that?”

Sam turned to his brother. “Morning. Did you get any sleep? At all?”

“Don’t worry, sweetness.”

Dean stiffly tried to get out of bed mumbling curses. Sam quickly got up to help him. _So no, then_ , he thought. If Cas didn’t show up soon… Sam did worry, and nothing his brother said could make him stop.

Ten minutes later Sam pressed a hand against Dean’s low back, trying to help him climb the stairs. When they walked into the kitchen all except one of the kids rapidly disappeared, carefully avoiding his brother, leaving them alone with Jody and the girls. The silence was thick and made Sam’s heart sink. Jody was leaning against the kitchen counter where Charlie was sitting, dangling her feet. Claire, standing next to them, stared angrily at Dean.

The one kid who’d stayed behind didn’t seem to notice the tension. “Hey! You scared us, Sam! And… you too, Dean. But you’re done being scary now, right?”

Dean snickered. “I guess I am, Garth. Good morning to you, too.”

“Good!” Garth said, got up and bumped into Sam who’d placed himself between the two.

“Garth, you can’t hug him. His ribs are broken.”

“Oh.” Garth answered. Then he lit up. “I’ll just hug you double!”

Sam couldn’t help but smile as he let himself be hugged. He was grateful to the scrawny oddball for disarming the tension even if only for a little while.

Jody sighed. “Garth, go on up to the others.”

They all watched him go in silence. Charlie nervously put the coffee mug on the countertop and immediately lifted it up again. Claire had let Dean go with her eyes, and instead she stared straight forward looking like she wanted to kill something hovering mid-air. Jody, arms crossed, gave the Winchesters a piercing look before she opened her mouth.

“We talked all night.”

She spoke harshly but Sam still felt a glimpse of hope. Jody sounded like she was preparing for a conversation, however pissed off she was. If she was going to tell them to leave she’d rip the band-aid off quickly, not start an argument about it. He slipped his hand into Dean’s, waiting for Jody to continue.  

“Why don’t we sit.”

Sam didn’t dare to believe this might work out just yet, but at least there was a chance. He helped Dean sit down. Neither of them said anything, and the girls were just as quiet as they sat down opposite to them. Claire giving him the faintest of smiles between angry glares was a good sign and he tried to hold on to that.

“We have conditions.” Jody said flatly.

“Figured as much.” Dean said, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

Sam was relieved and nervous at the same time; Jody wanted them there, but he didn’t know how much she’d demand of them. Of Dean. He knew his brother wanted to keep this family as much as he did, but he also knew Dean wouldn’t be anyone’s puppet; there were limits to how much he’d roll over.

“I have always been there, kid. Always. I offered my help and my support whenever you needed it.”

Dean nodded, and when Jody’s expression clearly stated that wasn’t enough, he spoke up. “I know.”

“From this point forward you stop taking my… our… help for granted. You don’t get to keep the ‘lone hunter, answer to no one’ attitude and you don’t get to order us around.”

“I get that.” Dean said without questioning how Jody put things. Sam didn’t think Jody was being entirely fair but he kept his mouth shut, letting Dean decide how to handle this.

Claire pursed her lips and glared at Dean. It was plain to see she still didn’t trust him.

Jody sighed. “The angel made it clear that you’re supposed to be the leader… and me and the girls, we’ve decided we want to be in this fight.” She leaned forward. “But that doesn’t mean we’re your marionettes, kid. We want to know everything you know, whether you think we need to or not. That’s not your decision anymore.”

Dean sighed. “I don’t always have time for social calls, Jodes.”

“Make time.” Jody growled. “Share information. And Dean… we make all decisions together. The three of us, we’re in or we’re out. All the way.”

Dean tiredly drew what would’ve been a deep breath if the pain hadn’t stopped him and for a moment Sam forgot the conversation they were in. _His lungs need more air_ , Sam thought. _Please, Cas, come here_.

Charlie glanced at Dean and shot Sam a worried look. He gave her a pale smile and a little shrug, expressing that he didn’t know how to help more than he already did.

“Please, Dean,” the redhead said, “I want to help.” Her lower lip trembled. “But if you won’t talk to me… if the demons tell me more than you do...”

The answer Dean had been about to give Jody got stuck in his throat and he slowly answered Charlie instead. “Don’t trust the demons, Char, they lie.”  

Charlie straightened her back, putting the coffee mug down decisively. Something had shifted in her. “Then tell me the truth, Dean.”

Dean answered calmly and it was clear he meant every syllable. “I’ve never lied to you, Char. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, kiddo, just wish I could keep you away from all this fucking crap.”

“But you can’t. So… promise?” Charlie said shakily but decisive.

“I promise.” Dean said sincerely and got a little smile in return.

“You better.” Claire said, sounding like he’d already broken promises one too many times.

Dean looked like he had an angry reply coming but Sam squeezed his hand, trying to avoid a meaningless argument. His brother closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. His temper was short from no sleep and constant pain, but he’d gotten Sam’s message; giving Claire a piece of his mind wouldn’t lead anywhere.

“There’s one more thing.” Jody said, giving Sam the slightest of nods. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you. If you’re not on a hunt, you stay here.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Both of you.”   

Sam’s heart raced. They were on the verge of not only keeping the family he’d come to love with all his heart, but also allies in a fight that sometimes overwhelmed him when he thought about it.

At first there was no reply. The silence made Sam hold his breath but he didn’t try to influence Dean in any way. This had to come from his brother; Dean had to want it enough to give some things up voluntarily.

“I’ve had someone tell me what to do and where to be.”

Sam saw Jody react to Dean’s words; they must remind her of the years she spent trying to minimize the damage John did to his eldest son.

“If that’s what you want from me, I can’t give it to you.” Dean spoke slowly and sincerely.

Jody winced. “No, kid, that’s not…”

Dean shook his head with a tired smile, interrupting Jody. “We can stay here whenever we have the time. I’ll tell you everything I know and I’ll listen to what you have to say. All of you.” He glanced at Sam. “If my brother think it’s a fair deal.” 

A big, relieved smile reached Charlie’s lips as Jody was about to answer. Sam finally let his breath out… but his brother wasn’t done.

“But what I won’t do is being shamed into following your lead. If you want in this fight, you need to let go of what happened and trust me. Can you do that?”  

Jody nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, kid. I think I can. Charlie? Claire?”

“I can!” Charlie said happily, eyes sparkling.

“I’ll try.” Claire muttered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Sam?”

Sam’s smile said it all – no words needed.

An hour later Sam was walking the little path leading to the forest, listening to his brother groan and curse under his breath. Dean had to get up and walk to help the healing but he didn’t exactly like it, muttering angrily almost non-stop. The happiness that had bubbled in Sam’s heart at breakfast was fading away a little more with every curse coming out of his brother’s mouth.

“You didn’t seem very happy about Jody forgiving you, big brother.” That was another thing that worried Sam. He’d felt so relieved and happy he hadn’t thought about Dean’s less hearty reaction at first.

Dean stopped, ran his fingers through Sam’s hair and kissed him lightly. “Babe, I’m not so sure this little kumbaya will make things work out in the end.” Green eyes, changing like the sea… sadness made them darker. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“It will work. I will make it work.” Sam said. “Jody and Charlie love you. And Claire… I’ll take care of Claire, Dean, I promise.”

Dean gave him a pale smile. “I hope you’re right, Sammy.”

Normally Sam loved the calming silence interrupted only by rustling leaves and birds singing that the woods around Jody’s home offered. Now all he could think about was Dean, what he’d said, how he winced as he started to walk again… and how his refusal to dull the pain might make him sick; breathing deeply was hard without any pain medication to help.

“Castiel, would you please get here and heal my brother? Amen.” Sam muttered as they stopped for a second.

“Are you hurt, Dean?” Castiel said, suddenly appearing. Sam wondered if they’d ever get used to Cas popping up like that.

“Yes, and hello to…” Dean started, but the angel had already touched his forehead, making him gasp… and then draw a deep breath.

The angel staggered, finding a tree to hold him up.

“Are you okay, Cas?” Sam asked.

“I’ll be fine, Sam, just tired. The search for the prophecy is exhausting and I’m cut off from the Pillar of Light.”    

Dean stretched happily, finally being able to move freely. “Pillar of Light, what’s that?”

“It’s this… when an angel touches it, they’re rejuvenated. I was connected to it, but…”

“But you rebelled.” Sam filled in.

Castiel steadied himself and let the tree go. “Yes.” His impossibly blue eyes was empty for a second, like he went somewhere else in his mind. “I have to get back if you don’t need me anymore.”

“Wait, wing-monkey!” Dean said. The angel sighed in annoyance at the nickname. Dean smiled. “Thanks, Cas. Sorry about the angel charging station. Angels are dicks.”

“I’ll be fine.” The angel repeating himself didn’t make it any more believable. He didn’t seem fine to Sam.

“Take a minute, Cas.” Dean said. “You look like you need it.”

The angel shook his head. “We don’t _have_ a minute, Dean. I have to follow the echoes and find the prophecy before the Host of Heaven finds it and uses it against you. I’ll try to listen for you more often.”

Before any of them could answer the angel had disappeared again.

“Damn it, wing-monkey, don’t burn yourself out.” Dean muttered. “We need you.”

Sam’s heart was light again despite Castiel’s gloomy words and he wished he’d had time to thank the angel for healing Dean before he flew off. He’d also liked to ask Cas where he’d been and why he hadn’t heard Dean praying the last few days, but soon forgot about the questions when he watched his brother move freely with a big smile.

“So, he can hear me too.” Sam said.

Dean shrugged. “My guess is he hears anyone praying to him by name.”  

“Way to make me feel special, big brother.” Sam said, still smiling. He decided that for a few hours he’d forget everything but the fact that his brother was whole and that they’d have a nice dinner with Jody and the girls tonight. Maybe watch a movie.

Dean smiled mischievously. “I know how to make you feel special, sweetness. Fact is I could make you feel very special right here and now.”

Things apparently could get even better. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to ask nicely.” Dean purred.

“Please make me feel special.”

“You can do better than that.” Dean said with a smile that made Sam think about things that had nothing to do with dinners or movies.

Sam took a quick look around. The woods seemed empty, but…

Dean tilted his head slightly with an amused expression. “Thinking someone else might be out here, little brother?”

“Yeah. Maybe…”

Dean closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Sam. “Maybe you like that idea.”

“I…” Sam started, his whole body tingling in Dean’s embrace.

“Don’t lie to me, babe, or I’ll have to spank you.” Dean whispered in his ear.

Sam made a soft sound as his brother kissed his neck. “Maybe I do…”

Dean snickered, warm air against soft skin. “Maybe I’ll take you to a club some time. Plenty of people who’d love to watch there, sweetness.”

Sam stiffened for a second. “What?”

A teasing smile reaching sparkling green eyes, so much lighter now, meeting his own. “I bet you’d like that. I’d spank you first, make sure you’d be good for me.” Dean whispering hoarsely in his ear, Dean’s hands all over Sam’s body. It was intoxicating. He listened to Dean’s words, creating an image in his head. “Then I’d fuck you, show them how beautiful you are when I do. You’d make a lot of people come that night, baby, the way you look.”

“Have you done things like that before?” Sam asked. Even in a moment like this, he couldn’t help but wonder. Sometimes it stung a bit, thinking about all the people and things his brother had done before him.

“…Yes.” Dean got serious for a moment. “But it’s always a first with you, sweetness.” His lips brushed Sam’s jaw, and then he whispered in Sam’s ear. “I once told you sex with me would make you feel like I was your first. Truth is, baby, you make me feel like that.”

Dean had been right, even if this probably wasn’t what he’d had in mind. Sam had never felt so special in his entire life.

“Tell me more about this club thing.” Sam whispered.


	38. Demon Spawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean thought he'd buried their father to deep to ever be found, and the information John had about the Apocalypse with him... but maybe he hadn't.

Sam Winchester had been in the shower for forty-five minutes before he started to feel clean, especially since the water pressure was, as always on the road, less than desirable. Now that Dean had lost his main source of income they had one more reason to choose cheap motels… which didn’t make them any more comfortable. 

“You done in there anytime soon, princess?” Dean asked, entering the bathroom. “I’m ready to rinse this crap out of my hair.”

“Next time you’re covered in exploding monster, let’s see how quick you get out of the shower.” Sam muttered. 

Dean laughed. “Sorry I killed it before it ate you, your highness.” 

“Would you stop that?” Sam said and lathered himself up one last time. It had felt like the sticky fluids from the dead monster seeped into his pores, especially since he had to sit wrapped up in a tarp to make sure he didn't mess up Dean's precious car while they drove here. 

“Why? It’s fun!” Dean said teasingly as Sam stepped out of the shower. Sam ignored him, stomped out of the bathroom and threw himself on the bed, exhausted after the hunt and relaxed from the thorough shower. 

Sam ignored his brother and enjoyed the feeling of being clean and resting on an almost decent bed. He’d almost drifted off to sleep when Dean emerged out of the bathroom ten minutes later, dirty blonde hair turned pitch black. “How do you like it, sweetness?” 

Sam yawned and blinked, tried to focus. “Not sure. I liked it the way it was. The stubble is cute, though.”

“Hm. You think I’m cute? My manly image is severely dented.” Dean snickered and landed next to Sam. His tattoos, flowing from the shoulder down his arm, didn’t cover the little scar that shouldn’t look like it was years old. One more for the collection, Dean had said when he examined Castiel’s handiwork.

“I do.” Sam said drowsily and brushed his fingers over Dean’s chest, thoughtfully trailing a ragged line. Another memento from Dean’s past. “You haven’t told me where you got this one.” 

“An alp. Caught me off-guard, the damn thing.” Dean said. “It was one of the first hunts on my own.”

Sam swallowed, suddenly not sleepy at all. “He did this to you, Dean. John made you hunt alone when you were just a kid.” He felt the anger well up inside. “I really hate him.” 

Dean put an arm around Sam and pulled him close. “You don’t have to go see him, babe.”

“Yes, I do. If he knows something, we need to know what.” Sam said. “I’m still nervous about you going in with a fake ID, though. You said these guys… ”

“Don’t think about it, Sammy, it will hold. Charlie promised.” Dean blew warm air through Sam’s hair like he used to do when they were kids. “And I won’t let you go alone. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

Sam leaned on his big brother’s shoulder. “He won’t. Especially not if you’ll be there.” 

Dean hummed and then his phone buzzed. He showed Sam the message like he always did these days when Ash sent something. 

_C and me found a way in and your ID’s done as soon as you do a glamour shot. Go-time!_

Ash might be a threat to Dean’s sobriety but he was a genius when it came to stuff like finding secret prisons and making flawless fake identities – and Charlie had said she needed back-up. So now he was the latest addition to Team Earth. 

Sam sucked on his lower lip. He still didn’t like Ash but he’d had to admit the guy had good qualities too. Jody had worked overtime on trying to find out who was on their side and who might be on Kubrick’s – and Ash definitely was on theirs. He couldn’t care less about their relationship and he’d dropped everything to help Charlie out once he learnt he was needed.

Dean’s phone buzzed again. 

_Tell me if you need anything else._

Then there still was the fact that Ash still wanted to save his bender-buddy from the boring life without drugs. 

“Could he stop that?” Sam snarled. “You’ve said you’re done.” 

Dean yawned. “And he wants to make sure that I know I can always change my mind. I won’t, you know that.” 

Sam didn’t answer; he trusted his brother and there was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said. It just bugged the hell out of him that Ash couldn’t just lay off already.

A week later Sam walked down a corridor identical to the one they’d just come from, like in a nightmare where every rounded corner would lead him deeper into blind panic because he’d just know he’d never find the way out. There were no windows and the walls were bare and painted in some grey-white non-color, like they were templates in a computer program for interior design. Sam was covered in cold sweat from the unsettling environment, one where Dean risked an unknown fate if he was exposed, and the anticipation of being eye to eye with his father for the first time in so many years. He almost felt the old anxiety well up but Dean’s calming presence kept it at bay. It had been touch and go for a while, but he’d managed to talk them into letting his brother come, and now he wondered what it would’ve been like to do this alone. The trade-off would’ve been knowing Dean was safe, but he trusted Charlie on this… it had been the right thing to convince them.

_“I can’t face him without David. It’s… I’m not sure it’ll help, but I want to try to get some answers. Why he left me. Why he hates me. But I’m… I need David.”_

He did need “David”, the guy who’d helped him find his way in the world when he ran away from the group home. Everything they said was very close to the truth just like every good lie is; easy to make believable and only a few details to memorize. David worked as a mechanic, had a sister who died when he was thirteen and two years ago he’d had his appendicitis removed. It was a very well made identity, backed up in all kinds of records. Some of it wasn’t strictly necessary; when Ash and Charlie got to it, they wanted to see what they could do, just for fun. Those two had found each other quickly, but Charlie had also said something about keeping the enemy close; she knew very well all the things Ash provided when asked (or without being asked). 

“Like we talked about, play into his delusions if it gets him to talk.” 

The man speaking had introduced himself as agent Johnson. He had a military vibe going on but he was dressed in a dark suit and not camouflage khaki or something like that. Sam had very fuzzy ideas about expensive clothing but he could discern that the jacket probably cost at least double as much as both brother’s clothes combined; this guy’s salary must be way off the usual government pay scale. Since they still weren’t sure what organization the agent and his friends represented Dean had named them the Men in Black; after coming here the name felt pretty accurate. The older Winchester thought John’s location had very much to do with what they must have found on their father’s computer. John had hoarded classified information that could have anything to do with the supernatural, and the money from Dean’s job had opened doors that the nice agents here probably firmly believed should be locked.

“I will.” Sam answered, noticing how agent Johnson looked at him a bit curiously. He’d said it very decisively because he’d just reminded himself to stay calm and focused, not letting anger or resentment affect the conversation. He’d said “I will” to that, too. It would have to be the first and last even remotely strange thing he did today; they didn’t want any suspicion that their story wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but.

A door marked “A3” led them into a chilly white room where John sat cuffed to a table. When the brothers entered the room he looked up with an unnerving smile. His hair was wild and unkempt but there were no physical marks of torture or maltreatment of any kind. Sam could see the goosebumps on his arms, though, dressed in short sleeves with the AC working overtime. He guessed that was intentional, meant to throw John off his game; this place reeked of absolute control. Nothing was left to chance.

“Hey, Sam.” 

Sam swallowed. “Hey, Dad. Long time, no see.”

John laughed darkly. “Guess so. I see you brought company.” 

They had gambled that John wouldn’t expose Dean’s real identity. He had absolutely nothing to gain from it even if someone would believe him.

“This is my boyfriend David.” Sam said flatly. “We’ve come because I need you to tell me about the Apocalypse. Why you left me when I was a baby.” 

“Oh. He reminds me of someone I used to hunt with.” John said, ignoring Sam’s request. “Sad story, he was a really good guy until he fell in with the wrong crowd.” The intensity in John’s eyes was scary. “He’s not tainted by demon blood like you, though. Might find his way back.”

Dean looked like he wanted to murder John. “I’ll tell you what, John. If there ever was anything evil in my Sammy, it would’ve been because you never lifted a finger to help him when he was little. Never cared for him.”

John scoffed. “I know my children. One was made for the angels, and one was made for the devil himself.” John leaned forward, staring Dean straight in the eyes. “My Dean wouldn’t be sitting here chatting. He’d get me out of here and I’d tell him everything.” 

“Too bad he’s dead then.” Dean said with a cold smile, resembling an animal showing its teeth to threaten somebody. 

Sam intervened before the argument could heat up even more. Dean was believable as the protective boyfriend, but this wasn’t what they’d come for and he’d keep his promise to get it. “Dad, you have to tell us what you know so that we can do something about it. You can’t get out of here and you know that.” 

“Dean would get me out.” John said stubbornly. “He’d realize what your demon blood does to people.” He turned to Dean. “I’ll give you some good advice, Dave. Stop being manipulated by this demon child. Run.” 

“David.” Sam said. “And I’m not manipulating him, Dad. I don’t have any demon blood in my veins.”

“I’m sure Crowley would laugh if I believed you, Sam. I’ve worked so hard to stop him and the other demons, they’d just love it if I got turned around now. The angels might laugh too, you know. Zachariah for example.” John leaned back, watching them with a smile that bordered on insane. “I’ve got more, Sam. Names and places. But I would never give them to you.” John paused. “And I won’t talk in here.” He sighed. “I’d love to tell _Dean_ everything though, after he got me out.” 

The Men in Black must be excited; the way Sam had understood it, John hadn’t said a word since he got here. Now he was monologuing… but after that statement John wouldn’t give any more new information, he just kept repeating what he’d already said. When the visit ended Sam was frustrated and he guessed their hosts must be too. 

The ride back to their car was spent in silence. Agent Johnson went with them but didn’t seem to have any questions, and both brothers were lost in thought. 

“Don’t disappear, Sam. We might want to get in contact with you.” The parting words of agent Johnson wasn’t unkind, but they were kind of robotic. “David.” The agent gave Dean a short nod and then he got back into the car with blackened windows that had driven them in circles both ways to keep the location of the facility a secret. What they didn’t know was that Dean had been trained to memorize maps and count seconds to figure out where they were going, and he’d taught Sam the same trick. They had a pretty good idea of where they’d been. 

The brothers had to stay in character until they had returned the rental. Dean had suspected that the Men in Black would search and bug the car while they were gone so he’d refused to drive the Impala to the police station where they’d been picked up.

“Do you think we’d get more out of him if we went there again?” Sam said as soon as they were back in the car that felt like his home these days, even if he didn’t share his older brother’s love for it. He knew the answer but had to voice the question anyway.

Dean sighed. “No way, Sammy. He’s stated his terms and he won’t budge.”

Sam stayed quiet for a little while, letting the sounds from the Impala calm his mind. “It has to be impossible to get him out of there, right? We’d need a teleporter.”

Dean shifted in the driver’s seat. “I kind of have one.”

Sam couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. “Castiel.”

“Yeah. Castiel.” Dean said, but he didn’t seem too happy about the solution he’d presented.

“We could put him in Jody’s safe room. He’d never get out of there.” Sam suggested. 

Dean scoffed. “He’d never talk either. We’d have to give him something more than another room to stare at the walls in, babe. John is a stubborn son of a bitch, nearly impossible to break.”

Sam grew quiet again, not knowing how to bring up a possibility neither of them wanted to acknowledge... but if nothing else, it needed to be discarded. “You could, couldn’t you?”

“I could.” Dean clenched his jaw and his knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “But Sammy… where I would have to go… and even if I hate the guy, it’s still Dad.” His voice was hoarse and unsteady. “I don’t know who, or what, would walk out that room, Sam.” 

“I’m sorry I said it like that, Dean. I’d never...” 

Dean sighed. “I know, babe.” He swallowed hard. “I thought about it. He’s the one that made me learn how to do things like that.” 

That night was a quiet one, spent trying to figure out where to go next. John might be bluffing about knowing more than they already did. If he wasn’t, they might be able to find a way to let him go and catch him again after he’d given them what they wanted. Or, if they let him go, maybe he’d leave them be. All of those things were, according to Dean, highly unlikely. 

“He’s known about the Apocalypse for a long time, Sammy. He knew about Crowley and Cas says this Zachariah is the real deal.” Dean said, going through what they knew and guessed for the last time before they gave up for the night. Cas had been just as spent and just as dead set on staying on the mission as last time they saw him – he was a soldier, no doubt about it. 

The bed wasn’t very comfortable and it felt like sleep wouldn’t come that night, but they weren’t getting anywhere so they decided to give it a try anyway. Maybe they’d stop going in circles tomorrow, maybe Jody and the others would be able to think of something they hadn't.

Sam curled up to his brother. “Imagine I thought life was tricky at the group home.” 

Dean held him close. “Maybe I shouldn’t have dragged you into all this.” 

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. That would’ve ended up with me succeeding the second time around,” Sam said and touched his scars with a little sigh, “or saying “yes” to Lucifer.” He clung to Dean like he couldn’t get close enough. “You saved my life in so many ways, Dean.” 

“And you saved mine, baby. I’ve never had much to live for except for you.” Then Dean somehow shook the doom and gloom off. It was clear he believed what he said when he continued. “John might’ve raised me to be a soldier, but you gave me strength I never had. I know we’ll find a way. We always do.”


	39. He's mine now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we get to see things from John's point of view, and it's not pretty.
> 
> And - I'm lucky enough to still have the amazing zombieutopia as my beta reader. She makes my writing so much better and I'm very very grateful for that. If you feel like something twisted and sad and incredibly well written, head over and read her "Sixteen". 
> 
> And - I can't believe there are more than a hundred people who subscribed to my story. I'm humbled and happy and it really, really helped me getting back to writing after the chaos that was my life for a while. Now I hope to be back to posting at least a bit more frequently.

John Winchester kept searching for something, anything, that could be of help. He’d woken up chained to a chair. There were no windows, no decorations, no hint to where we was or how he could escape. The only way in or out of the room appeared to be a single door made of reinforced steel. He analyzed every square inch of the bleak surroundings and had concluded in mere seconds that he was screwed. The bare walls didn’t offer any hope, just as the chains gave him absolutely no wiggle room. Dean knew what he was doing; John had made sure he did, but keeping busy made it easier to stay focused… and it wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

Ever since his sons had come to visit him in that hellish place run by government lackeys void of humanity, John had been clinging to the very slim chance Dean would actually find a way to spring him. He knew what cards he had to play and he wasn’t surprised that he, for the moment, was imprisoned. It might be a tough one to win but the odds were significantly better than back in the cell. He’d find a way to get out of here. He had to. 

A predatory dark smile reached his lips as he made his mind play out the scenario where he’d kill Sam, slowly, for what he’d done and get Dean back, making sure his oldest would never dare even thinking about betraying him again. With Sam dead and Dean following orders like the good little soldier he was supposed to be John could get The Plan back on track. That scenario had given him strength to keep his mouth shut and his head down while the days and nights bled together in the cell that was always a bit too cold or a bit too hot, that was deadly quiet or filled with loud music and noise. It would happen. He would make it happen.

John looked up when Sam walked through the door followed by Dean, now shaved and dressed like himself. Still… something was off. He’d been drowsy from the creature-induced sleep last time he saw them. How Dean could control something that powerful was a mystery, but he was an exceptional hunter after all; John had made him. Now John was fully awake and his well-honed instincts told him there was something there that he hadn’t taken into account, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Hey, Dad.” Sam spit “Dad” out like it was a curse. His youngest seemed to excel at hating people. Maybe the demon blood was gone but it must have rubbed off. Some things are too rotten to ever be cleansed, John thought. 

“Hey, son. I’m tired of this no-star hotel. I won’t give you anything here, and believe me, you want the rest.” 

“Oh, you will.” Sam grinned darkly. “I hope it’ll be a while, though.” 

Dean stepped forward. “Remember when you sent me to that A-guy’s place? And the way I practiced what I’d learnt? All of it?” 

John refused to let on that his stomach was twisting in cold knots at Dean's words. He knew all too well what his oldest was capable of and for a second it made him lose his footing. Then he reminded himself that Dean might be close to a perfect hunter… but he’d always been whiny and scared to do what was needed when it came to the bigger picture. He wouldn’t be able to go through with the threat, not a chance.

John chuckled. “Are you sure you’re up for that, son? Maybe you should call Ash, tell him to be on stand-by before you give it a try.”

Dean scoffed, but John kept going. “Is that what you want, Sam? You know what your brother does every time something proves to be the tiniest bit hard?” 

Maybe this could give John an opportunity to spin things because Dean trying to follow through wouldn’t end up the way Sam probably imagined. The question was how that would affect the situation. John knew his oldest and he probably had some of those pills he liked so much stashed somewhere around here, calling for him right now. 

Sam bared his teeth in something closer to a growl than a smile. “Oh, he won’t run to Ash. He’s mine now, John. He does what I tell him to.” The smile grew wider, and Sam’s eyes glittered with malice. “And I have no problem giving him whatever he needs to make it through the next few days.” Sam shook a small bag with white powder for John to see. 

John kept quiet and started revising his plan. Dean wasn’t much of a leader, that much he knew, even if he’d seemed to take the big brother role before John’s incarceration. Apparently the dynamics had changed between them, with Sam coming out on top, which wasn’t surprising. Dean needed orders to get things done (or he’d get stuck helping one person or another, forgetting the big picture) and Sam seemed more than capable of giving them. John quickly went through what had happened in the interrogation room in his head. Had Dean acted on command then? Maybe.

“And in case that wouldn’t be enough….” Sam reached into his pocket and dangled a syringe between his thumb and index finger. He seemed fully prepared to feed his brother a drug that was entirely different than what John had anticipated Dean would be craving. 

John watched a hungry, greedy expression pass over Dean's face at the sight of the syringe and a cold chill shot through his body. Maybe his son was further gone than he'd previously realized...or maybe Dean was lying. Lying had always been one of Dean's strong suits and he was quite good at it. His oldest had always excelled at selling a lie, even when he wasn't speaking. 

Despite Dean's talent at deception, John had never had a problem reading him like an open book. He'd always known how his son was feeling and what he was thinking because John was the one who’d taught Dean everything he knew – including how to lie. Now he couldn’t tell if there was more to it than Dean being even more of a pathetic junkie than he’d been before. It was unsettling but John wouldn’t give in that easily. 

“I don’t think so, Sammy. Dean has a problem with syringes. Has been a baby about it since he was little.” 

Dean flashed him an angry look before he turned back to Sam like a fucking lapdog. Goddamnit, his oldest could barely get any thinking done and when he did he always ended up whining about right and wrong. Seemed “wrong” had changed since Sam started doing the thinking for him, though.

Sam laughed. “He’s not a child anymore, John. Dean, show him.”

Dean was reluctant to do what Sam asked. John knew that look on his face very well because he’d forced Dean to do things he didn’t want to more times than he could count. John felt nausea come rolling in seeing Sam handling his brother like that. He’d lost his infant to a demon so many years ago and now he’d lost his oldest too, just like he was close to losing the fight that had kept him going for eighteen years. Sam would never give Dean the orders that would save the world, no, he’d make it go up in hellfire if John didn’t find a way to stop him. 

“Dean!” Sam barked. 

Dean uncomfortably shed his flannel shirt in silence and walked a few steps towards John, flashing his scarred armpit. The kid had been a pin cushion for sure. Dean looked ashamed, kept his eyes on the floor and backed up as soon as John had seen what he was supposed to. He quickly put the shirt back on.

John, nauseous and short of breath, asked himself when he saw Dean in a t-shirt last. How long had his son been injecting drugs without him knowing about it? Pill bottles were one thing. If he’d found a syringe Dean would’ve been in trouble. Watching his oldest like this made him wonder how many times his son had deceived him before he put his own father away for good. It made him furious… and scared. 

John Winchester did _not_ get scared. Never. He did his best to stick to furious, and it almost worked. 

“You think about it and we’ll be back. Maybe I’ll give my brother what he wants, because I’d really, really like to let you experience first-hand what you had him carved into.” 

Sam had snuck up behind him while delivering that message, whispering in John’s ear. He ran his fingers through John’s hair and shoved him roughly forward when he stopped talking, making it feel like his neck would snap. John remembered the darkness in Sam’s eyes when he’d killed Gordon, remembered the photos Dean had provided the clients with after _that_ job. He had chills but put on a good show, refusing to let his children know how he really felt. Those wild eyes, Dean biting his lip in anticipation when Sam talked about the drugs… how was he supposed to find an opening if he was too hurt to run or even walk? 

And then he was alone again, alone in the empty room and the deafening silence. The air seemed to thicken around him, making it impossible to take deep breaths. If the government had tortured him he probably could’ve given them some story they’d believe if he had to. His sons knew enough to make that hard.

The Plan to save the world had never included either of his children to know things they didn’t need to. He’d sacrificed everything for it and telling the demon spawn (if he thought about Sam as the baby he’d once left behind, he’d go crazy) would kill any chance of pulling it off. 

The chains pinched and his hands were starting to go numb. He tried to hang on to his reasons to fight but he was having a hard time doing so, there seemed to be no escape and he had no real leverage in this situation. Sam hadn’t even offered to set him free if he talked. He apparently believed he didn’t have to… and maybe he was right. It got harder to keep the thoughts of giving up away with every minute that passed. There was a slim possibility he’d be able to withstand the torture but he wouldn’t get out of there. Dean would shred him to pieces and then pick the pieces apart, turning him into something like… in _those_ pictures. All to keep secrets that wouldn’t save one soul if he was imprisoned or dead. He should’ve trusted someone else with them, he should’ve told Dean more about Sam, kept him closer. Too late now.

John counted seconds out of old habit and because it calmed him down just a little bit. Three hours went by before the door opened again and his sons returned. Dean seemed unable to stand still, nervously shifting his weight, fingers twitching and head jerking from side to side. When Sam got close, bringing his brother with him, any doubt of why drowned in Dean’s dilated pupils. 

“Please don’t talk.” Sam said with twisted amusement. “I got my brother ready for you.” His youngest seemed almost… aroused. Lips slightly parted, cheeks blushing, dark intense hazel eyes searching John’s face intently, that almost indiscernible smile playing at one corner of his mouth, full of expectations. John was pretty sure the demon blood had made Sam enjoy this, that he got off on it, and it was more sickening than the obvious signs of Dean being out of his mind. He felt like he was going to throw up as the creature that had gotten him out of the cell suddenly appeared.

Sam rolled his eyes. “John, meet Castiel, angel of the Lord and aspiring Jiminy Cricket.” 

It couldn’t be true. And still… The certainty that what Sam claimed was impossible fell to pieces as John went through everything he knew about every monster in the world. The conclusion hit him like a force. What else could do what that creature had done? He couldn’t believe a soldier of the Lord could be siding with Lucifer’s vessel but this one apparently had. Whatever he got out of it puzzled John; why would Heaven want him to spill their secrets? Or was Sam powerful enough to corrupt even angels?

“Remember your promise, Sam.” The angel’s voice was monotone and deep. “You don’t touch him if he speaks, or I put him back where I found him.”

Sam sighed in annoyance. “I remember, Castiel. I will keep my promise as long as you keep yours.”

The angel paused a second before he spoke again. “I will honor our agreement and heal him if needed.” 

“Good,” Sam answered and glanced over at his brother, “because Dean might get a little… overly enthusiastic. I don’t want our dear Dad unconscious or dead instead of talking.” 

That was enough for John to crack. There was no way out so he might as well keep his body intact for another opportunity, or more likely for a swift self-chosen death later on. It didn’t matter what he said anymore. If Sam could make angels fulfill his wish, even if there were conditions, it didn’t matter much if he kept quiet or not.

“I’ll talk.” John said, not caring how he sounded anymore. “I don’t have to tell you about the Apocalypse, right?” 

If they knew enough to try to get rid of Sam’s demon blood, they had to know about that. 

“Yeah.” Sam said. “We know Lucifer and Michael wanted a piece of our sweet asses. But they won’t, no thanks to you.” 

John sighed. “The jury is still out on that. What I know is the names of the leaders on both sides down on Earth and where you can find the angels that have taken vessels down here.” 

Sam scoffed. “We kind of have Castiel for that, but keep talking.” 

John clenched his jaw. “Crowley runs part of the demon show. Lilith and Azazel are the other big players. They don’t seem to cooperate that much with Crowley.”

“That’s what Charlie said.” Sam said, sounding bored and irritated. “Guess it’s always nice with confirmation.”

John wondered if Sam was bluffing. Could they have that much intel, gathered in such a short period of time?

“The angels on Earth are Zachariah, Uriel, Naomi and Samandriel.” 

“Aaand that’s what Castiel said. You’re useless.” Sam sighed. “Castiel, can we please give him some incentive to give us something we don’t already know?” 

“No.” Castiel growled. “Let him finish.” 

John swallowed hard and gave them the coordinates where he believed the angels had their earthly headquarters. Sam didn’t seem very impressed with what he had to share. 

“If they move, there are ways to find them. Certain hardcore Christians are connected to them, like batteries. You can backtrack the power line.” John gave them what had cost him years to find out in seconds. It should feel worse than it did, but he’d given up. Fuck Earth. It had taken his life, his Mary, his sons. Let it burn. He told them how the human batteries worked, something he didn’t think any other human being had ever known. 

“Hm.” Sam seemed a little less bored. “Interesting. Now tell me the rest.”

John swallowed. He didn’t have much else to convey, not since he’d already taught Dean all there was to know about demons and the boys had a pet angel these days. “I have one final thing, but it’s a longshot. I have the location of some strange alternative prophecy speaking of a human blessed with feathers and spine, guided by an angel lost to the Light between Heaven and Earth, seeking redemption from righteousness. Whatever the fuck that means.” John saw the glance Sam and Castiel exchanged. This was news to them. 

“What’s the location?” Castiel asked. “Tell us now.” 

“I’m not exactly sure how to find it, but according to what I’ve found it’s on the First Mountain, buried with the madman who carried it there, right under the spot where the Dove first landed. Must be Mount Ararat.” John could hear his voice tremble a bit as he continued. “That’s all I know.”

“Really?” Sam said. “I don’t believe you.” 

Castiel raised his hand. “He’s telling the truth, Sam. Wait. I’ll get the scripture. It’ll take me a few minutes if it’s underground.” 

“You’re sure that’s all?” Sam asked, and the darkness in his voice seemed to disperse. 

Castiel shot the youngest Winchester an irritated glance. “I said so, Sam.” Then he was gone again. 

Dean suddenly straightened his back and the tics he’d had since he walked in was gone. “Angel lie detector, very practical, wouldn’t you say, sweetness?” 

“Yeah.” Sam said with a smile. “Sure is. I did good, didn’t I?”

Dean shed his shirt and produced a bottle and a piece of cloth from his back pocket. He poured the liquid on the cloth. “You did, babe. Real good.” Dean wiped his armpit and the marks faded. They had been made by someone who knew their shit because they had looked a hundred percent authentic – but they weren’t. “I would like to see the look on your face more clearly, John, but these fucking drops are messing with my eyesight.” Dean smirked. “I can see my brother clearly, though. Not a drop of demon blood in him.”

John couldn’t believe it. He’d been played. In the back of his head a question bounced against the overwhelming shock of what his kids had accomplished. Dean had always called everyone by nicknames, but these were kind of strange for a brother, weren’t they?

Dean pulled his brother close. “Proud of you, Sammy. That was one hell of a performance.” Then he planted a light kiss on Sam’s lips, and Sam leaned into it, seemingly hungry for more. Dean ran a hand through Sam’s hair, and if there had been any doubt before they were gone now. The kind of kiss Sam got was proof that the demon blood had corrupted Sam and Dean had been drawn in like a fly to the light, providing Sam with a perverted kind of love no brother should ever give. John didn’t want to believe it even if he’d warned a few other trusted hunters to look for signs of Sam being rotten to the core; telling them the version of the story that skipped the part of why Sam had been demonized as a baby wasn’t a risk to the Plan. He’d told them that Sam might make Dean do things, twisted and horrible things, but he hadn’t foreseen this one. When Dean let one hand slip under Sam’s t-shirt in the small of his back and the kiss deepened he averted his eyes. No wonder he’d felt that something was off. 

Castiel returned with a flutter of wings and John looked up again. 

“I got it!” 

Seeing an angel like that… it almost seemed like he had feelings. Actual feelings. Maybe corrupted angels worked differently. 

Dean smiled and let his brother go. “That’s awesome, Cas! Finally that deadbeat dad of ours did something good.” He turned to John with a smirk. “You can put him back in storage while I get this revolution going. Have a nice life, Dad.” Dean flashed him that big smile he’d barely seen for years now. 

“Revolution?” John asked, still dazed. “What revolution?” 

“The one you just handed us the handbook to.” Dean turned his back to John and pulled up his t-shirt. “See? Feathers and spine thanks to Cas here. Maybe I’m good for more than following orders after all.” 

Back in the grey and cold cell with nothing but a bucket and an uncomfortable mattress on the floor John started to cry for the first time since Mary died. All he could hope for was that Dean was right – that he could start a revolution for mankind. That weirdly realistic tattoo on his oldest back and the angel’s presence seemed to indicate it wasn’t a hoax... Maybe his kids were the only hope Earth had, perverted or not. And maybe he was to blame for all this, maybe if he’d tried harder to save his own fucking baby boy it would’ve ended very differently. In that moment, all self-hatred he’d ever felt came back and exploded inside John, memories of all he’d done scratching at him and the image of his children staring at him with such contempt burned into his retina. He wondered for the first time in many years how Mary would feel about him if she was alive and the obvious answer made him shudder and sob like a baby.


	40. I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are dealing with what happened with John.

Jody’s living room looked like it always had; Nothing matched and everything was timeworn, cozy and welcoming. The sofa where the Winchesters had settled into creaked when Sam stretched his legs just like it always had… but the entire room felt different. Like Sam wasn’t really there. Trying to psych John into talking had been exhausting, and now the intense rush of having actually pulled it off had faded. Sam’s head was spinning as listened to Jody and Charlie discuss the prophecy with Castiel. 

“It’s… hard to translate from Enochian. Humans don’t have the right words to understand what it says.” The angel sighed in frustration. 

“Maybe we start with a summary, then.” Charlie said. “The key parts of this thing.”

That idea obviously puzzled Castiel. “Every single syllable of a prophecy is important, Charlie.” 

Charlie tried to maneuver the angel into giving them something to start with. It wasn’t an easy job and it was even more challenging because both Castiel and Jody were unfocused, shooting worried glances at his brother which was understandable; Sam could barely follow the conversation because Dean wouldn’t talk to him. He just sat there, drinking whiskey in silence, looking like crap. 

John had seemed to know so much and he’d said that the demon blood still flowed in Sam’s veins. That thought had scared Sam senseless, but Dean was scaring him even more right now. The oldest Winchester had gone through a lot living with John and now he’d been reminded of how he’d followed orders to torture other people, to leave Sam behind and the drugs he’d used to forget it – he’d been playing someone he could have turned into if things had been a bit different. Even if Sam was scared he could go dark, he’d never walked right up to the abyss like Dean had. He had worries, not memories. The abyss had never stared back at him the way it must have his brother.

 _“Always stay close to the truth, Sammy. The best lies are at least half true.”_ Dean knew how to lie, right, and his script had made the psych successful – but it’d also made him dig deep into things he’d rather not think about. Sam’s role was based on what John believed to be true; Dean’s was firmly planted in reality. 

 

Dean’s phone buzzed and he squinted at it, still not back at full eyesight after the drops. He had a short written conversation and then got up and threw the phone in Sam’s lap. 

“Going for a walk.” 

Sam and Jody exchanged looks but neither tried to stop or follow Dean because it was obvious he wanted to be alone, clear his head. Sam sighed and looked at the messages from Ash.

_Hey D, how’s your acting career?_

_Got what we needed._

_Celebrations on their way then?_

_Not so much._

_Tough going with your old man, I get you. If you need something…_

_I know._

Sam stared at the last message. “I know.” He really would’ve preferred “I’ll be fine” or something like that, letting Ash know that Dean didn’t want his help. 

They stopped talking about the prophecy shortly after Dean left because all any of them could think about was how to help him. Sam refused to even consider the possibility that his brother might be taking Ash up on the offer but he could see Jody thought about it. And he knew Claire most certainly would have if she’d been there and not in her room, waiting for Cas to fly off. 

They had to wait for Dean’s return for two long hours. To Sam, it felt like forever. He was on his way to go find his brother several times but felt he had to trust that Dean would come to him when he was ready. Let his brother deal with this the way he’d chosen to without jumping to conclusions. 

“We’re leaving, Sammy.” Dean said as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He looked like he could breathe again, like he’d sorted things out. Sam got up without thinking. If Dean would just talk to him, wherever he wanted to go to do it, they could fix this. 

“What?” Jody exclaimed. “What are you thinking, kid?” She sounded worried and suspicious. 

Dean turned to her. “I’m thinking I need a goddamn vacation. I’m thinking I’d like to give Sam the birthday present that fucker Kubrick stole from us.” When nobody answered right away, Dean smiled tiredly. “I’m thinking the fucking world will have to wait a few days. I’m all out of hero for the moment.”

Jody gave Dean a very long look. “A few days, and then you’ll be back?”

Dean scoffed. “No, I did all this for kicks, and I’m planning to move to Canada. Or, wait, I’ll go to Hollywood and become an actor. I’ll ask John for a recommendation.”

Jody sighed and shook her head… but there was a smile on her lips, a smile that told Sam how happy she was to hear Dean being himself. “I’m glad you’re sticking to talking to me, even if I wouldn’t mind a little less sarcasm.” 

Dean ignored her comment. “You work on the prophecy until we’re back.”

Charlie gave him a warm smile. “We will, Dean. And you come back all rested, because you look like crap right now.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Dean laughed. “I’ll work on that.” 

“I will await your return. Pray for me if you need me.” Cas looked relieved. Sam wasn’t sure that the angel fully understood why Dean needed this break, but he understood it would make things better. 

“You rest up, Cas… however you angels do that.” Dean said it as a friend, but Sam thought the angel might take it as an order. It didn’t really matter; Castiel had said he liked orders. 

Jody bit her lip and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder as he was about to walk out. “Kid… are you…”

“Nothing but whiskey, Jodes.” 

Jody nodded and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. Sam hoped she believed him but he wasn’t entirely sure that she did. 

Thirty minutes later they were on their way. Sam had tried to pry the keys out of his brother’s hands (seeing as he hadn’t had any whiskey), but failed – Dean needed to drive. Needed to get things out of his system. Listen to music loud enough to make conversation impossible. Sam decided that was a good thing. He couldn’t even compare this way of coping with what Dean had turned to before.

Two hours later Dean turned down the volume. “He’s wrong, sweetness.”

Sam looked up from his laptop, not really following. 

“What?”

“There’s not a drop of demon blood in you. Don’t let John get to you.” Dean said calmly.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, so now you read my mind.” Dean had always had a way of knowing what he was thinking about, but still…

“Always have.” Dean snickered. “And it helps to see what you’re googling.”

“…are you sure?” Sam wished he could believe his brother. That he could just flip a switch and stop worrying about going darkside. 

”If you don’t believe me, believe the angels and demons who aren’t waiting for the devil to rise.” Dean spoke slowly and made it very clear that he didn’t have the slightest doubt about this. 

Sam knew that was the logical conclusion. John hadn’t been there at the cleansing ritual, he hadn’t heard Castiel saying Sam was fine. He didn’t know what was happening in the world outside the four walls of his cell. 

“I know, it’s just that… I…”

Dean found his hands and tangled their fingers together. “Babe, I know you can’t just flip a switch to get rid of those feelings even if your mind tells you it’s the truth.”

 _Flip a switch._ This was almost unnerving, the way Dean seemed to hear what he was thinking. Sam wished he could’ve done the same thing with his brother earlier that day.

“Talking helps.” Sam said. “And now that we are talking, why don’t you tell me what happened in the woods?”

Dean sighed, but he didn’t let Sam’s hand go.

“I worked through some shit, Sammy.” Dean swallowed tightly. “What John did to me, it wasn’t fair. I know that. I don’t mean that I’m not responsible for what I’ve done, but I have to let go of the past to take care of you.” Dean squeezed his hand. “And I always will, babe. Always.”

It was like the radio could read minds too, because it gave them “I don’t want to miss a thing”, and even if it was far from Dean’s favorite song Sam could tell it felt as right for him, then and there, as it did for Sam. His brother didn’t need more than a “Please?” to start singing along. It was a perfect moment. When the song ended Sam felt happier than he had for a long time.

“So… about this trip…it’s…” Sam said.

“Mmhm. I know I said weekend, but I think you’d like that club night we talked about instead.” Dean winked at him and smirked when he saw the effect his words had on Sam. “I see I got your attention.”

Sam blushed. “I…”

“Thought so.” Dean said and flashed Sam one of those ten thousand lux smiles. It made Sam warm inside out. His brother had found a way to get past what’d happened. Dean would never have suggested something like that if he was out of balance.

Then Dean got serious. “But if we’re going to do this we’ll have to talk it through first, babe.”

“Sure.” Sam blurted out. “I want to, Dean. Like really want to.” 

“I know, babe. That’s why I want to give it to you. Plus, bonus, I want to. Like really want to.” Dean laughed, that carefree laugh Sam had heard way to few times lately.


	41. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for Sam's last birthday gift - the club night...
> 
> I know it's been forever since I last posted a chapter... I blame it on the fact that my life has sucked for a while now. Next chapter is almost done, though, so I HOPE that one will be posted soon. I think some of you will enjoy it a lot - but if you want story, you'll have to wait for the one after that ;)

Sam Winchester followed his brother out on the street and had a quick look around. It was pure reflex, checking if people stared at him coming out of a store where aisle after aisle had been filled to the brim with various costumes and outfits, shiny BDSM gear in brightly lit cases and colorful toys in more shapes and sizes then he knew how to process. Half of the stuff they had passed by he’d barely known existed before now. The shopping trip had been an experience in and of itself...and given the mischievous grin Dean had been wearing the entire time, Sam was pretty sure he knew it. The plastic bags his brother carried were filled with birthday gifts needed for the day after when dreams would come true at the club Dean had chosen for them because it was a “good, safe place”. A place where Dean still had playmates, people they were on their way to meet up with now to discuss how that night would play out. Sam was a bit nervous about talking to people he’d never met about something like that… but as Dean had stated, his first time should be with people he knew, boundaries set beforehand. “If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t do it.”

“Now, babe, remember. If you don’t feel like it after this…” Dean started.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you and we won’t do it. And if we do and I don’t enjoy the hell out of what we’re doing I’ll safeword myself out of it so fast your head will spin. Stop fussing.”

“Sam, this is important. I’m not perfect, and you might feel different with people there. I need to know I can trust you on this.” Dean reprimanded him.

Sam was used to Dean making sure he always felt safe, but this thing had his brother on overdrive. It hadn’t occurred to Sam earlier that it might not be about him – at all – this time. Dean needed to feel safe too. Even if the Den of Iniquity was a good place. Even if he knew their invited guests were good people.

“You can trust me, big brother. I promise.” Sam said. “I thought you’d done this before.”

Dean nodded. “I have, Sammy. But it’s your first time and I always chose playmates who knew exactly what they were in for.” He put his arm around Sam walking down the street. “I love you, sweetness. If I make you feel bad, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I won’t let you. I promise.”

The bar where they met up was nice; not too fancy, the tables were clean, and it didn’t have the smell of old beer lingering – seemed they actually mopped the floor here every now and then. Not too many people, either, this time of day. It was the perfect place to meet up. 

“Long time, no see, Matt!” Dean said, and he and the blonde well-built guy did the man-hug thing. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you again, Winchester!” Matt answered with a grin.

“No such luck. This is Sam.” Dean said. 

This was it. Sam had been nervous his stage fright might translate to the situation he was so excited about; they were supposed to watch him, after all. Meeting these people, no matter how great they were, according to Dean, still gave him butterflies. 

“Hey, Sam.” Matt shook his hand firmly. “This is Mel, Jay and Mika.”

“Hi.” Sam shook hands with Jay, skinny and dark-haired. His rock’n’roll style didn’t quite mix with his boyfriend’s – the well-built blonde, born in Finland, looked like a lawyer. Sam would never have guessed they were a couple. 

“Welcome to our little town, Sam.” Mika shook his hand. For once, Sam wasn’t the tallest person in the room. “Nice to meet you.” 

Sam didn’t know if it was the Finnish accent or the warmth in the light blue eyes, but somehow the tired old phrases from a guy in a suit felt genuine, just in another way than the hug Mel gave him. “Hey, Sam. Any friend of Dean’s is a friend of mine.”

When he turned back, Matt looked at him up and down. It was slightly uncomfortable.

“He’s absolutely gorgeous.” Matt told Dean with a wink at Sam. “If you’re staying…”

“I know. Sorry, man, he’s all mine.” Dean said, squeezing Sam’s hand. 

Sam’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been prepared for the guy to actually ask out loud to borrow him, but he guessed it was a compliment… and the forward question definitely answered why he was being looked at like that. 

“There’s a first time for everything, I guess, “Matt said with a little laugh, “good for you. Oh well, at least we get to see him in action if everything works out.”

Dean nodded and pulled Sam a bit closer. “Yeah. Up to Sammy.”

Matt hummed. “Will do my best to win him over.” Then he looked Sam straight in the eye, and the playfulness was gone for a second. “But, Sam, all of us understand it’s your choice. I’ll always be happy to hang out and have a beer no matter what you decide, now or in the middle of things.” 

Sam relaxed and smiled. “Oh, I know.” Now he did. There would be no stage in that room, just friends having a good time.

“Good.” Mika said. “Shall we?”

As soon as they found a table and ordered beer Matt started asking questions, wanting to catch up. Sam watched Dean lie through his teeth, telling stories so vivid Sam almost believed they were true… which thankfully meant he didn’t have to say much. He didn’t like lying to good people. While he was waiting for the catching-up to end, and the discussion they were there for to begin, Mel rolled her eyes at Sam. “Let Matt do his twenty questions and be done with it,” she whispered in his ear, “I want a soda.”

Sam knew an excuse when he saw it – she wanted to talk to him alone. When they got up, he caught the look Mel gave his brother and how Dean gave the slightest nod… something was definitely going on here.

“So, Sam… this is your first time, right?” Mel asked as she accepted the soda. She didn’t seem to have any intention of bringing it back to the table. 

“Yes.” Sam didn’t know what else to say. Maybe Mel had a game of twenty questions of her own. 

She looked him in the eyes and put a hand on his. “I’ve been there, Sam. Exactly where you are.” She paused. “I thought we could talk about it, just you and me.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Did Dean put you up to that?” 

She gave a pearly laugh. “You caught that, didn’t you?” 

“I did, yeah.” 

She shrugged. “I would have anyway, but Dean asked to be sure, yeah.”

Of course Dean had. He’d probably chosen Mel in part because of this. 

“So, ask any questions you want. Nothing’s stupid. And… I have some of my own.” She pointed at the other bar stool to make him sit. 

“I though we’d talk about all that toge…”

“We will,” Mel interrupted him, “but I want to talk to you alone first.” She shrugged and winked at him. “I happen to be a bit bossy.”

“Seems that way.” Sam said warmly. He liked this girl. 

“So… I’ll scene with Matt that night, we’ve done that a couple of times before and he gets me. I’m very… particular. No surprises.”

“I like surprises,” Sam answered, “but…” He looked over at his brother.

“He knows you very well.” Mel finished his sentence. “This time you might try things a little bit more my way. At least when it comes to us.”

“That was the plan.” Sam said.

Talking to Mel was easy even if they’d never met before. She made him feel comfortable with discussing details and assured him she loved helping someone else find joy and pleasure. It was the first time Sam had a deep conversation with a person who liked the same things as he did – even if it wasn’t necessary, he was happy Dean had thought of giving him that.

“…so, how do you feel about us making comments?” Mel asked. 

“No,” Sam said with certainty, “I don’t want any of you to comment on what we’re doing.” 

“Got you. Would it be okay if Matt gave me short orders while we’re watching? Like “stay still” or “no” or things like that?” 

“Sure, that’s fine.” 

Mel looked like she was taking mental notes, hummed and kept going. Somewhere in the middle she said that she wouldn’t have to write this down; there were few and easy rules for the guests to follow. Finally, after more questions than Sam could count, Mel stated that they were done and now she’d make sure the others got it right. “I know Dean would have, honey, I’m just something of a control freak.” 

Sam laughed. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed.” 

They returned to the table and one look between him and his brother said it all; Sam was had enjoyed about the conversation and that Dean had chosen Mel with exactly that in mind. 

All of them were good people, just like Dean had said. Sitting there, talking to them, was kind of weird – and surprisingly not because they were discussing sex. They weren’t hunters, these people, just regular friends of his brother. It didn’t take long before they felt like Sam’s friends too… as much as people could feel like friends when you kept them in the dark about so many things. His brother was all smiles and charm, seemingly without a care in the world. Sam couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Dean would’ve been like, full time, if he’d grown up in another family. A happy one.

Walking back to the hotel Dean squeezed his hand and asked him what he was thinking about, because “it was something”. 

Sam sighed softly. “Just wondering what our lives might’ve been like if we’d grown up without all the misery and hunter stuff.” 

Dean hummed. “We’ll never know, babe. But I wouldn’t change it if I could.”

Sam chewed on his lip. “There’s been so much pain in your life, big brother, and you wouldn’t even consider it?” 

“No.” Dean said resolutely. “Do you know how many people I’ve saved? And… who says you’d be mine, like you are now, if things changed? I would never ever risk that.” 

Sam grinned. “Me neither.”

“Sweetness?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to take you out tonight. Anywhere you want to go. Even if I have to eat rabbit food.” 

Sam hummed, amused. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“You know what, baby, I think I am.” Dean said jokingly… but there was a hint of seriousness there – maybe he wanted to give Sam some of what they were missing out on, hunters and misery and all. 

“Dean Winchester on a date.” Sam mused. “Not bad.”

“Maybe throw in a movie too?” Dean said. “I hear that’s what you do.” 

“Dinner and a movie.” Sam felt light-hearted and happy. “That’s kind of perfect tonight.” 

Before Dean had found him at the home, Sam had never imagined he would ever be out on an actual, typical date with someone he loved and trusted, but a few hours after the bar, there he was. Dean kept his word and didn’t make any fuss about the menu at the restaurant, and Sam let him pick the movie. He’d never get how Dean could love horror movies, being a hunter and all, but his brother did. He also loved popcorn with extra butter, double portions to try to make up for the horribly healthy food he’d had to eat… but even with Dean chowing down popcorn, it was sweet and romantic. In the dark, Dean’s arm around him, he almost forgot he wasn’t a normal eighteen-year-old catching a movie with his boyfriend. A movie he didn’t pay much attention to; the idiotic people reading from a book that was clearly not smart to read from and then running in opposite directions to make sure the demon could pick them off one by one sure wasn’t very entertaining. Thinking about other things, he was surprised by a loud jump-scare and he jerked in his chair.

Dean laughed. “Don’t worry babe, I won’t let the monster get you.”

“Shut up.” Sam mumbled. “I don’t get why you like these stupid movies.” 

“Hmmm.” Dean kissed his cheek softly, tracing his cheek bone with soft lips until he mumbled in Sam’s ear. “Because when my date gets scared, I get to do this.” 

Suddenly, Sam was very aware of Dean’s hand under his t-shirt. Thankfully, most people seemed to agree with him about the movie; they were all alone in the row in the back. When their lips met, Sam couldn’t help but snicker.

“What’s so funny?” 

“This is… it’s kind of bizarro-world where we turned into apple-pie-life-teenagers, sneaking kisses at the movies.” Sam whispered. 

“Enjoy it, babe.” Dean’s whiskey voice softly but effectively commanded him. “I want all flavors with you… Apple…” Dean kissed him, “Vanilla…” Dean’s hand on his knee, “And all the…exotic… ones.” 

Sam gasped softly. “Wait…” He stopped Dean’s hand from sliding up his thigh. 

Dean chuckled softly. “So this is a teenager date.”

“It won’t be much longer if you keep that up.” Sam breathed. “We’re not alone in here, you know.”

Dean kissed his neck. “…and you like that, babe.” 

One of Dean’s thumbs made fiery circles all the way up his inner thigh. Sam was planning to put a stop to that but found himself unable to. Dean’s attention was all on him now which made Sam totally forget about the movie. He adjusted in his seat and leaned into a long, hungry kiss. “You’re in luck,” he whispered, “I kiss on the first date.” 

“I hope you do a lot more than that,” Dean whispered back, “or I will be very disappointed.” 

Sam gasped as his brother palmed him through his jeans. “Hey! I have to walk out of here.”

Dean ignored his complaint and kept going. “Maybe I’ll make sure you come first.” 

That might have happened two years ago, but Sam wasn’t about to come in his pants, no matter how good Dean was at what he was doing. “That’s a bit too much teenager for my taste.” He sounded very serious, but then he couldn’t help but make an involuntary little sound which made his brother bite the soft skin where his neck and shoulder met. 

“Are you sure?” Dean breathed in his ear, unbuttoning Sam’s jeans. “One of the perks of dating an older guy is that he knows what he’s doing. Could show you, right now.” 

Sam was very grateful that the movie was loud and the people in it were screaming while he tried to stop Dean half-heartedly. “This is stupid…” 

“…and you love it.” Dean cut him off, catching Sam’s lips with his own. Sam whimpered into his brother’s mouth as Dean started stroking his cock. If anyone caught them, Sam knew they’d be kicked out and publicly shamed, but it felt so good… so he gave in. “I love you.”

The movie finished only a few minutes after Sam. Dean whispered in his ear, “If your lips are not wrapped around my dick the second we’re back at the hotel, you will deeply regret it.” 

Sam chuckled. “I guess cute and romantic is over, huh?” 

“I was never very good at it anyway.” Dean said with a shrug. 

Sam shook his head. “You are, you’d just like to pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe with you, sweetness. You make me do crazy things.” 

Sam snuck his hand in Dean’s and started walking towards the exit, carrying his shirt in front of him. “Point proven. And just so you know, we’re taking a shower right afterwards, or you get nothing.” 

“No arguments from me… The water pressure at that hotel is awesome.” He winked at Sam. “Not as awesome as what will come first, though.” 

Back at the hotel, Sam told his brother to sit down on the bed because he was planning on taking his time and he wanted control. 

“Aren’t you bossy today, sweetness.” Dean said while Sam got on his knees between his brother’s legs.

“Just trying it out for a while, big brother. Won’t be that bossy tomorrow, will I?” 

Dean hummed. “Better not be, for your own good.” He ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I’ll let you today, because I want…” Dean gasped, “… that.” 

_Oh, just you wait… we’ll see who’ll be begging tonight, big brother,_ Sam thought to himself as he took a little bit more of Dean in his mouth. _Because I know it won’t be me._


	42. The Den of Iniquity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're here for the story and not for the kink, feel free to skip this one :) Sam gets his birthday gift, and it's everything he wished for.

Sam loved the Den of Iniquity from the moment he set foot in there. He immediately felt like he belonged in the dimly lit place where the music was low enough to be able to have a conversation without screaming and people were dressed in the same style as him and Dean; latex, leather, fishnet, lace… This time he felt comfortable in these kinds of clothes – he remembered how much Dean had enjoyed seeing him in something very similar at that fake vampire club. The best part was the collar around his neck; visual reminder to everyone there that he belong to Dean. This fact was highlighted by the greeting they received by their friends when they reached the bar.

Mel asked Matt for permission to say hello, and when she got it and Dean had given Sam a short nod to let him know it was okay, she hugged Sam, whispering in his ear. “Is the Den what you hoped for?”

Sam whispered back that it was better and Mel let him go, clearly satisfied with his answer.

Dean exchanged a few words with Matt and Jay and during that short period of time three other people stopped to say hi, long time no see. If Sam hadn’t already known, that clearly showed that his brother had been cherry-picking who would be joining them later.

“So,” Matt said giving Sam a scrutinizing look, “this one seems to be well-behaved.”  

Dean chuckled. “Oh, he doesn’t want to make it worse for himself. He knows what’s waiting for him later.”

“That’ll do it.” Matt let Sam go with his eyes. “Maybe we could join? It’d be a good reminder for Mel.”  

Matt’s question was planned; Sam still had a chance to say no before they even entered the room where the magic would happen.

“Sure.” Dean gave Sam a brief look. “You don’t mind, do you, babe?”

Sam shook his head and looked Dean in the eyes. “No, Sir.”

If he’d looked down or hesitated before answering, they’d all just happen to forget about it even if Dean had said yes. Now Dean answered with what time they should be there. “If you want to, Jay, you could bring Mika too.”

Sam felt excited and nervous, reveling in the fear of how bad it would hurt and how embarrassing it would be. It felt like seconds and forever at the same time before the bartender signaled Dean the room was ready for them. His brother grabbed him by the hand and led him through the corridor.

“Are we green, sweetness?” Dean asked when they’d entered the room. It was sparsely furnitured; a big bed, a bed stand, some comfortable chairs reminding Sam that they wouldn’t be alone. He trembled slightly in anticipation. 

“Yes.”

The audience walked in, finding their places without a word; Sam didn’t want comments, just their participation.

“I believe you have something you want to ask me.” Dean said.

“I…” The sight of their guests, no matter how sure he’d been, still made him a little nervous.

“You what?” Dean asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

Warmth spread out from his cheek, and it started to throb in pain. Dean had slapped him, and when he saw Mel’s face watching it happen, the bad nervousness was gone and only good butterflies were left. Her reaction might’ve been a little bit theatrical, but Sam knew the feeling was authentic; she just reminded him why she was there. He couldn’t believe they’d only met once before, because she felt like an old friend, knowing what he needed.

“I was hoping you’d give me my spanking now, Sir.” Sam bowed his head in submission, waiting for Dean’s answer.

“You’ll get the spanking you deserve, baby. And I’d recommend you answer me right away from now on or you’ll regret it.” The raspy, dark voice started to pull him down into the bubble Dean was making for him. Their guests would have to listen closely; Dean expected Sam to pay attention to every syllable no matter how low or soft he spoke. It showed them the level of obedience Dean demanded and was used to Sam giving him.

“I will, Sir.”

“We’ll see.” Dean brushed his thumb over Sam’s reddened cheek. “Now, tell our guests why you need to be disciplined.”

Sam swallowed. “I need it because I haven’t shown you the respect I should.”

Dean circled him, his hand gently tracing Sam’s abs through the fishnet. “And do you need the paddle today?”

“Yes, Sir.” Sam answered, breath already labored from the light touch.

Dean hummed and stopped behind him. “And why is that?”

Sam glanced over to the audience, licking up every word. “Because then I won’t forget my lesson tomorrow.”

Dean scoffed. “Tomorrow? You won’t want to sit down for days, babe.”

Heat rushed through Sam’s body in response to those words and being so close to Dean when he said something like that. Sam didn’t answer; Dean hadn’t asked him anything and he wasn’t about to talk out of turn. “Speak when spoken to” was an important rule to remember.

His brother walked over to the bed and sat down and Sam waited for orders with his arms by his sides and his head bowed. Thoughts bounced around in his head, all of them directed towards what was about to happen and none of them about prophecies, monsters or anything else. The world outside slowly melted away.

“Come here.”

Sam took the first step almost before the short sentence was spoken. Dean reached out and grabbed him, fingers between his leather pants and the now hypersensitive skin of his hip, creating little sparks of electricity rushing to his cock. Towering over Dean did nothing to change the power dynamic. Dean liked to do things that could’ve made him look less dominant just to prove it didn’t matter. Jay and Mika did things differently; Mika was on the floor next to Jay’s chair, Jay’s fingers intertwined in his almost white hair. Sam wouldn’t want to try being mostly ignored like Mika, but he enjoyed the thought of him and Dean driving the man almost crazy, not allowed to do anything to relieve the aching need he’d experience.

“So, Sammy, are you going to take your spanking the way you should?” Dean asked him, whiskey-voice pushing and prodding him to lose sight of everything but him – and this time, their guests. “I’d like our friends to see how good you can be when you get what you need.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be good, Sir.”

Dean’s thumb were so very close to touching him where he wanted it the most which messed with his focus, but he managed to listen and answer properly.

“You better.” Dean loosened his fingers and gave Sam’s hip a push. Sam took an involuntary step backwards as the next order came. “Pants down and over my knee.”

Sam hurried to do as he was told, thinking about their friends seeing him half naked… which of course did nothing to make him less aroused.

Dean put one hand on the small of his back and started spanking him with the other. It barely stung, and Sam knew very well that meant his brother was going to take his time, slowly pushing him closer to what he could take… which would be a lot more this way. He almost shuddered thinking about it; maybe it’d get so bad he’d beg his brother to stop. A little sound left his lips at that thought, a sound of wanting something and fearing it at the same time. Their experiments lately had made him understand how much he relished being pushed to his limit.

Soon, that little sound was followed by low moans and whining. Sam glanced over to their audience while Dean let him think about the next one before he got it; going slow made things worse and therefore better. Mel’s lips were slightly parted, her cheeks blushing, and she was in Matt’s knee now, his hand up her short leather skirt. He whispered something to her. Sam guessed he was telling her what a needy little slut she was, a thought that was interrupted by Dean’s hand coming down on his ass. Then it stayed there, his thumb brushing over blushing, hot skin.

“So, Sammy, what’s next?” Dean asked.

“The… the p-paddle, Sir.” Sam stuttered, trying to ignore Dean’s very distracting hand, a finger sliding in to massage his hole.

“Oh,” Dean said, smooth as silk, “you want that?”

“I- I know I need it, Sir.”

What Sam wanted right now was for Dean to fingerfuck him, but asking for that would be considered trying to get out of being disciplined, which wasn’t a smart move.

“Good, baby.”

Dean’s hand was gone, stretched to the side, and seconds later the smooth wooden paddle was resting on Sam’s ass. Sam tensed and sucked in his lower lip. He’d been spanked with this paddle before and he knew Dean could make him very sorry for being disobedient. When the paddle left his reddened, hot ass Sam winced. Dean let him wait for it, his other hand still holding Sam down, before he let the paddle come back down. The sharp pain made Sam moan out loud and jerk, rubbing himself against soft leather already slick with pre-cum. He could see their audience loved it; Jay was stroking himself slowly, Mika looking back and forth from him to Sam. The blonde man must be very uncomfortable in those tight latex pants by now.

“Stay still.” Dean warned him. 

“Yes, Sir.” Sam said, not sure if he could. When the paddle landed, exploding on his warm, throbbing ass, his hips proved that it was near impossible.

“What did I tell you?” Dean asked.

“To stay still, Sir.” Sam breathed.

“And did you?”

“I… tried, Sir.” Sam answered. He heard a muffled moan and a quick glance told him that had been Mel, now on her knees on the floor with Matt in her mouth. Apparently the sounds were enough for her right now and Matt, one hand intertwined in her hair must love that fact.

“Not hard enough.” Dean let smooth wood slide over smarting skin and Sam’s breath hitched. “Maybe you’d like to stand against the wall instead, get a reminder of what happens when you don’t take your spanking like I tell you.”

“No, Sir, I’ll be good. Please, Sir.” Sam blurted out, definitely not wanting to lose the friction or be reminded just how much Dean could make him regret failing to follow orders.

Dean hummed. “I don’t like repeating myself, baby, you know that.”

“I know Sir, I’m sorry, I will listen!” Sam promised, feeling how the entire room was waiting for Dean’s decision.

“You better.” Dean said.

Sam willed himself to stay still and almost succeeded – and Dean must’ve deemed it good enough, because he kept spanking Sam without going through with the threat of added punishment. The slow pace let Sam dread and want the pain and glance over at their guests enjoying the treatment he was given. He whined and moaned constantly by now; it was hard enough to stay still under the relentless paddle, staying quiet as well was impossible. There was nothing in the world but what happened here, nothing to think about except following Dean’s orders, nothing else reached the sub-space he’d never known he craved so badly before Dean guided him there. Just as he felt like he was about to start sobbing, Dean paused. Sam was slowly getting closer to that point where the most intense pleasure bordered on too much, and Dean always knew when they got there.

“So, Sammy, are we done?” Dean asked, his voice dark and hoarse with lust.

Sam drew a shaky breath. “I will take whatever you think I need, Sir.” He paused shortly. “But I promise I’ll be good now, I… please, Sir, I’ll be good.”

“You always need to be disciplined hard, baby...” He traced the muscles on Sam’s back. “Show me how well-behaved you can be when I do it right and you’ll only get three more.”

Three more. Sam could take three more. “Thank you, Sir. Tell me what to do, Sir.”

Sam could almost hear Dean’s smile. “That’s my good baby. Now, I want you to thank me properly for each and every one. If you don’t, we’ll just do that one over until you get it right. Do you understand?”     

Sam swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

The first one smarted enough for Sam to sob a little. “Thank you, Sir, for spanking me when I need it, helping me to be good.”

Dean had him waiting for a few seconds, tense and wondering if he’d done well enough. “One down, two to go.”

After the next one, Sam moaned loudly but still managed to thank Dean quickly; if his brother had to wait, he might decide Sam needed a do-over. “Thank you, Sir, for always knowing what’s best for me and giving that to me.”

“And when I do, you’re very well-behaved, aren’t you?” Dean purred. “One left.”

The last one hurt the worst – the sweet push to the edge but not over it. Sam tried not to sob too much and desperately wanted to get this right, because he didn’t want Dean to have to consider repeating it. “Thank you, Sir, for always having patience and correcting me even though I misbehave so often.”

Dean stroke his backside gently, brushing over violently throbbing red skin. “You do try my patience, babe, but you can be so good too, like you are now.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Sam breathed, trying to calm down. The spanking was done, and he desperately wanted Dean to reward him for taking it, but he didn’t dare ask for it – speak when spoken to.

Dean let him lay there for a few moments. Then he gave a new order. “Up, babe, undress and then on the bed, on your back.” Sam got up a bit clumsily and shedding his clothes with his back to the audience, he gave them a good look at the result of his punishment. When he was about to lie down on the bed, Dean stood up in front of him and stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. He was wondering what he’d done wrong, but Dean quickly assured him he hadn’t. “Babe, let Mel see.”

Matt must’ve made Mel look because Dean let him go. He was deeply embarrassed, letting them see how fucking hard he was with his ass on fire from being spanked real good… and he loved the sting of humiliation just as much as they apparently loved watching him. Sam laid down, planting his feet on the bed, trying to keep his weight off his aching ass. Dean got on the bed next to him, choosing the side that’d give the audience the best view.

“Wrists, babe.”

Sam obediently held his hands up to be cuffed to the iron bed-frame. He wanted to beg his brother to get him ready to be fucked right fucking now but he bit his lip and stayed quiet as Dean started by squeezing and playing with his nipples until they were sore and erect, then dangling nipple clamps over his face.

“Do you want these?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, please, Sir. And…” He stopped himself.

“And…?” Dean asked while he put the clamps in place, making Sam whine as the pain from his sore nipples was added to the other sensations.

“I… wanted to ask you for something, Sir.” Sam said, hoping Dean would let him.

Dean’s fingers travelled down his chest, belly, hip, turned to the inside of his thighs… “And then you remembered not to talk out of turn.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sam’s chest was heaving, he was trembling with need, but still just barely able to control what he was saying.

“Well-spanked, well-behaved.” Dean purred. “Tell me, baby, what is it you want?”

“Please fuck me.” Sam said, his voice filled with desperate need as his brother reached for the lube.

“Be good and I will.”

Dean was deliberately missing the sweet spot getting him ready to be fucked. Even in this state Sam knew why – otherwise he wouldn’t last seconds when they got to the finale that Sam craved so badly he thought he’d go crazy. Looking over to their audience he saw that they weren’t far from that point either, any of them. Mel was back on Matt’s lap, watching them, biting her lip and whining. Matt had probably told her to keep quiet.

“Now, Sammy baby, you’ve been so good… you’re allowed to talk.” Sam wasn’t sure their guests heard his brother, but it didn’t matter much – they’d understand he’d been given permission anyway.   

“Please Sir, fuck me now, I can’t take it anymore, please please!” Sam begged the second Dean told him he could.

“Oh, I think you can,” Dean answered, “if I tell you to.” He got up from the bed and finally undressed, and Sam drank in the sight of his brother naked. How their guests could keep watching him with Dean looking like that was more than he’d ever get, but one glance told him they did. “But I won’t.” Dean continued, got back on the bed and lifted Sam’s hips up. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean, finally getting what he wanted.

Dean started slow, like he always did, but quickly picked up the pace until he thrusted into Sam hard enough to almost make his head bang into the headboard It was amazing, and in the back of his head he noted that their guests might come when he did, at least it sure as hell sounded like it; he could hear them between moans and the random “fuck” or “more, Sir” that left his lips. He did, as he had said he would, enjoy the hell out of it… and then Dean paused, looking him straight in the eyes, mesmerizing green filled with want and lust.

“No, please Sir, don’t stop, don’t stop!” Sam desperately begged.

“I won’t, baby. You come with me now, Sammy, I want to hear you scream my name.”

Dean started pounding into him again, hard and fast, losing control as his orgasm was building up. For the first time since they’d entered the room Sam completely forgot they had guests; there was no room for anything but the feeling of absolutely perfect pleasure that was pulsating in every single fiber of his being – the order he’d been given was absolutely impossible not to follow. The feeling of coming in waves as his brother came inside him, making hoarse sounds that would’ve made Sam come if he wasn’t already there… it was an explosion in his mind and body, filled up with Dean and nothing else, lasting long enough that his first thought afterwards was that time had stopped for his sake, a gift from the universe for everything he’d been through in his young life.

“How do you feel, little brother?” Dean whispered in his ear, low enough that their guests wouldn’t hear. They were just walking out the door, instructed to leave to have fun on their own when it was over.

“I’m… awesome.” Endorphins rushed through Sam’s body, leaving him ecstatic and hazy. Dean carefully got him under the covers, removing the nipple clamps which Sam barely noticed. “I’m…”

“…I know, babe. I’m right here,” Dean whispered as he held Sam close, “take your time. I can stay like this forever.”

Sam didn’t answer, he just made a happy little sound and let himself be covered in Dean. “My beautiful, amazing baby, I love you so much.” Sam listened to Dean, followed his voice up as he had followed it down. “I’ll take care of you, sweetness, just relax. I’m here and I always will be, you are perfection.”

Maybe it was minutes, maybe it was hours – Sam had no idea, floating slowly back to reality, guided back by the same voice that had led him down, held by the strong arms that once had cured his insomnia. He smiled as he realized he might talk about this with Mel the day after; it felt good, having a new friend who knew and understood this side of him.

“Dean?”

“Yes, babe?”

“I’m good to go now.”

Dean kissed his shoulder. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, sweetness, I’ve got some water for you before we get up, and then I’ll take you back to the hotel. We’ll order room service tonight.”

Sam had never ordered room service in his life, hadn’t even thought about the fact that they stayed in a hotel good enough to have it – but he knew there would be something on the menu that he’d like and that it’d be available no matter how late it was. Even if it usually wasn’t, it would be tonight – Dean would’ve seen to that. This night, Sam knew he wouldn’t have to lift a finger, he’d be coddled and taken care of every minute of every hour. He smiled as Dean caught his lips in a soft kiss. The night would end just as good as it had begun.


	43. Prophecy Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers get back from their vacation and find out what the prophecy has to say about Dean's fate. 
> 
> (The title is a nod to my other favorite tv series - Buffy)

The vacation was over and the Winchesters were heading back to Jody’s, Dean driving and singing along to his favorite songs. Sam was looking out the car window, watching trees and houses fly by. Part of him wished they didn’t have to go back, that they could order room service and have awesome sex for the rest of their lives. He knew his brother felt the same way… but they couldn’t save people, or the goddamn world for that matter, from bed. The cell phone buzzing woke him up from his thoughts. He picked it up and read the message.

“Charlie and Claire say ‘see you soon’,” Sam said, “and that they don’t get the stupid prophecy. All weird poetry, they say.” He’d texted the girls that they weren’t more than an hour out now, and that he’d started to read the translation Charlie had sent. 

“We worked our asses off for that thing. Cas looked like he was about to die from exhaustion. There has to be something.” Dean said emphatically. “…Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure _Claire_ said ‘hi’?” Dean asked. It was obvious he didn’t believe she had.

Sam shifted in the seat. He’d worked on Claire, and they would get there – but for now, she’d promised him she’d forgiven Dean for what he’d done. “Charlie wrote that they said ‘hi’.”

“Mm-hm. Sweetness, it’s okay that she doesn’t like me.” His meant it, Sam knew that, but still… he’d get Claire to see Dean for who he was and then, if she still didn’t like him, that was okay. 

“Now, tell me what you think of the damn thing so far.” Dean said, changing the subject. 

“They’re not wrong. ‘And he will have many hands and feet’, I mean what the fuck is that about? Medusa-hands would be seriously creepy.” Sam answered.

“Hm. I want to see the original,” Dean said, making the Impala growl as he passed another car, “not just what Charlie typed up.”

Sam pursed his lips. “What for? You can’t read Enochian.”

Dean glanced at him. “No. But I still want to see it.” 

Sam decided to let it be for now; they could talk more about the prophecy when he was done. He sighed and kept reading from where he'd stopped to stare out the window and Dean went back to driving and singing, always enjoying the moment when he could. It was one of his brother’s best qualities and Sam suspected that he’d see a lot more of it now that the fallout after his kidnapping seemed to be over. 

When they drove up the dirt road Dean took a deep breath. “Okay, Sammy, ready to get back to asshole angels and weird prophecies?”

Sam scoffed. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

Dean shrugged. “We could always hide and hope they go away.” 

“So, we don’t have a choice.” Sam said.

“No. Not really.” Dean stopped the car and cupped Sam’s face gently. “I loved taking a vacation from it all though, babe.” The kiss Dean gave him was a final goodbye to the (very) long weekend away from fate and cosmic battles. 

“It was absolutely amazing. The only downside is you can never give me a better birthday present.” 

“Just you wait and see.” Dean said with a devilish smile. 

Before Sam had time to ask what his big brother meant by that Jody and the girls came out to welcome them. Fifteen minutes later they were in the kitchen talking about the infuriatingly vague prophecy. Cas had gone to “receive revelation”, hoping against all odds that God would finally hear him.

Dean had asked for the original as soon as they sat down and now he stared at the pages like he thought the Enochian would turn into English if he tried hard enough. His headphones blasted Led Zeppelin to cancel out their voices; somehow, loud music helped him concentrate. All he’d said was “I’ll try something. We’ll talk when I’m done.”

“What is he _doing_?” Charlie asked curiously. 

Sam gave his brother a quick glance. The first time he’d seen Dean do this, Sam had thought his brother had trouble reading since he’d never attended school. Now he knew better. 

“He’s memorizing the damn thing, all of it. If he can do it, maybe he’ll see something we don’t. It’s a longshot, but… ”

Jody gave Dean a warm smile and continued the sentence. “… we haven’t got any other bright ideas to try. I didn’t know he could do that.” She shook her head. “It’s nice finding out that there are good things he hasn’t told me about.”

“He counts cards, too. Yesterday we had to leave this really shady place very quickly when people started to question his good luck.” Sam said, distracting them from asking when and why his brother had learned to keep that much information in his head at once.

Jody laughed. “Why am I not surprised?” She looked at Dean affectionately. “He’ll always find a way to take care of you… the easiest possible one, but still.” 

Dean looked up and lifted the headphones. “Stop talking about me when I can’t hear what you’re saying. And make more coffee, I need caffeine.” Then he got back to what he was doing. 

Sam and the others let Dean stare at the pages in peace while they compared notes. It didn’t yield any results; Sam had almost the exact same thoughts about it as Jody and the girls had. Vague descriptions when it came to the “who” and absolutely nothing new about the “how”. There were some good news like “…and the wings will keep him safe from Heaven’s fire…” which seemed to suggest angels wouldn’t kill Dean – or at least their angelic special powers wouldn’t, just like the demons couldn’t fling him into walls anymore. 

Finally they all gave up. Reading the prophecy over and over led them nowhere. Sam put his head in his hands and thought that maybe they should make their own plan to get rid of the angels and demons and hope for the best; the prophecy might be nothing more than a cryptic cheerleader telling them they could do it. Claire threw her copy into a wall with an annoyed growl and Charlie sighed and stated that she’d rather watch an infomercial about treating ringworm than read it one more time. 

“Paper and a pen!” Dean waved at them without lifting his eyes from the thin book. He flipped through the brittle old pages slowly, carefully writing down what had to be Enochian. When he got to the end, he shoved the prophecy aside, stretched and took the headphones off. 

“What is that?” Sam asked, looking at what Dean had written. 

Dean shrugged. “Beats me, but I hope it means something to Cas. I’ll call him here, so if you don’t want to be here for that, Claire…”

“I don’t.” The blonde walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs. 

Jody stole the paper away from Sam. “Where did this come from, kid?”

Dean rubbed his face, tired from the absolute focus. “Look here.” There were a kind of flowery-like pattern in the margins of each page. The wavy lines were almost identical, and since it was handwritten, Sam would assume that “almost” was to be expected. There was a spot in the right corner that changed with almost every page, though. Dean showed them how the lines in that spot from three pages, if you read every other one, formed an Enochian letter when you put them together. 

“What is this, the da Vinci code?” Sam said.

Jody squinted at the foreign letters. “And isn’t this terribly short to be a prophecy?”

“Let’s ask Cas.” Dean closed his eyes. “Castiel, are you there? I pray for you to stop looking for your asshole dad and come here.” He opened one eye to see if Cas was there. He wasn’t. “Amen.” 

Castiel showed up with a flutter of wings and an upset look. “Dean, you have to stop talking about my Father that way!”

Dean smirked. “When he proves what I’m saying is wrong, wing-monkey. Now take a look at this.”

Castiel wrinkled his forehead and his eyes widened as he read what Dean had written. “How… where did you get this?” The angel looked a little bit pale. Sam didn’t like that. If what was on that paper actually meant something, it could change their lives.

When Dean had explained once more what he’d done, Castiel looked even more puzzled than they had. “I have never heard of a prophecy written in code.” 

Jody scoffed. “I’ve never heard of one that was easy to interpret.” 

The angel didn’t have time to respond because Sam started thinking out loud. “Not like this one, though. Castiel, would an angel ever consider there was more to a prophecy than the text?” 

“Never.” Castiel said. 

“Dean did,” Sam continued, “but he can’t read Enochian, he just learned what the letters look like.” 

Dean hummed. “We know this, Sammy, what are you thinking?” 

Sam turned to his brother. “I’m thinking the prophecy can only be read if an angel and a human cooperates. To unlock it, it had to be partly fulfilled already… maybe to prevent angels from sabotaging? I’m guessing this will be hard enough without them knowing every step we’ll take.”

Dean nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. Cas, would you please tell us what the big secret is?”

The angel looked at what Dean had written and a faint smile played across the corner of his mouth.

“What’s funny, Cas?” Dean demanded to know.

Castiel stopped and looked up. “You write very badly. It’s amusing.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Get to the not funny part.”

Castiel talked slowly, and it was obvious he tried very hard to get it right in human tongue. Some of the weird letters seemed to be several words.   
_  
The deathlight in black  
from feathers of needled colors   
will strike down the groundbearers of the new dawn,   
and one by one their inner sun   
will shine too bright  
in the dark of night,  
and mornings will come changeless.  
_  
Dean nodded thoughtfully, looking sad. “Avenging angel, dark in the night. Striking down hard, black deadly light.”

“What?” Jody said. “Did you suddenly learn to read Enochian too?”

“No, Jodes, that’s what Pamela said. Kind of the same thing.” The older Winchester gave her a half-smile. 

“And every bit as cryptic.” Jody said tiredly. “More bad poetry isn’t exactly helpful.”

Dean sighed wearily. “Only it isn’t that cryptic, is it? It’s very clear to me.” Sam knew where this was going, and he could see Charlie had put it together, too, and that neither of them liked it very much. Cas, he believed, had understood it before he even translated it for them; angels and prophecies kind of went together and it was probably easier to understand in Enochian.

“Then explain, Dean.” Jody said flatly. Maybe she didn’t get it because she didn’t want to.

Dean drew a deep breath. “Feathers of needled colors, that’s my tattoos. I would say that the bearers of the new dawn are the angels, trying to apocalypse-now earth into a shiny new world. So, I will strike them down with my ‘deathlight’ to keep our mornings God-Squad-free… and Cas, how does one know an angel is dead?” 

“The light inside us will burst through our vessel until we are no more.” Castiel said hesitantly. 

Dean nodded. “Almost like a sun that shines too bright, wouldn’t you say?” 

Sam’s hands trembled. “So it basically tells you to assassinate the angels… and their vessels… one by one until they’re all gone.” That left his brother alone in this fight, and Sam would _not_ have that. If the prophecy tried to tell them Dean had to go on his own, then screw the prophecy. 

“Choosing me finally makes sense. Killing people professionally since I was fifteen and wasting supernatural sons-of-bitches longer than that.” Dean laughed darkly. “Pretty rare combo.”

Sam exchanged a look with Jody. “You don’t get to do this by yourself, no matter what the prophecy says.” 

Jody continued. “And you’re not doing anything before we talk about it, right, Dean?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t want you killing people, kid, not even if they are angel puppets. Not if we can find another way.”

Dean rubbed his face. “Demons are possessing people, witches are people, for fuck’s sake. Werewolves too, except for three nights a month. You never complain about them. And as far as I know, none of them have plans to enslave the entire human race.”

Charlie looked straight at Jody. “You know he’s right, Jody. We can’t win if you won’t let him fight, and I can’t see any other way to interpret what the prophecy says.” 

Jody looked like she wanted to reply but couldn’t find the words; she must know Charlie had logic on her side. Sam wished Charlie was wrong, wished his brother never had to kill a human being ever again – but to do that, he had to turn his back not only to the prophecy but also to hunting… and that would be immensely worse.

When Jody finally opened her mouth, she didn’t argue. “I don’t like how close you’d have to get to use that angel-sword, Dean. Nothing else works, right?”

“Could try melting one and make bullets. They’d never see me coming that way. _The deathlight in black_ , a red dot at night.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s arm. “They’d never see _us_ coming.” The others waited for Dean’s reaction but he didn’t say anything. Sam continued. “Look. The prophecy doesn’t say ‘Sam Winchester can not go with his brother’ so I’m coming with you, Dean. Whatever we have to do, greater good and all that.” He made sure it was clear there weren’t any other options here. He just wouldn’t let his brother do this on his own.

“I know, babe. You told me long ago it’s all in or all out. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

Sam intertwined their fingers, debating in his head whether he should wait to have this conversation until they were alone and deciding that he shouldn’t; he needed to know for sure that Jody and Charlie wouldn’t treat Dean any differently if they were reminded of what he was – or had been – capable of. 

“You don’t want me there when you’re pulling the trigger on a human like that, not even if you’re aiming for the angel inside.” 

Dean shook his head. “You’re not wrong.” 

“Dean... I have to be there. For you.” He pulled Dean closer, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, cupping his brother’s face, like Dean had so many times when Sam had needed it. ”I will never, ever stop loving you, Dee. Or leave you alone.” 

“Not what I’m afraid of, Sammy.” Dean looked down but didn’t pull away. “I just… don’t like reminding you of some things.”

Sam hummed. “I think you don’t like reminding _you_ of some things.” He backed up just enough to catch Dean’s eyes when his brother answered. Dean might not want to be open about all this in Jody’s and Charlie’s presence, but Sam believed his brother needed to know he could, that he didn’t have to tiptoe around it wondering if he was truly forgiven. 

“I’ve never had trouble killing demon meatsuits if I had to, babe, this shouldn’t be any different.” Dean sounded like he was trying to convince himself, not them.

Sam shook his head slightly. “It’s not the vessel thing, Dean, it’s how the prophecy tells you to do it. That’s not how you usually get rid of demons.” 

The room was silent, and Dean wouldn’t answer him, so he kept going. “You haven’t killed anyone or anything with that gun since you did it for money.” He kissed his brother, made sure Dean knew how much he loved him. “And I bet if you ever have without blocking yourself out, it was a long time ago. It’ll be hard for you, angel or no angel.” 

Dean finally pulled away. “Psycho-analyze much, Sammy?”

Sam gave his brother a piercing look. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but he got up and leaned on the window sill, watching the world outside with tense shoulders.

“Dean, eh… whatever you’re planning to do, you have to wait. The angels have left Earth.” Castiel said. 

Dean turned around violently enough that the wilting potted flowers in the window were very close to ending up on the floor. “WHAT? Cas, if the enemy gives up, it’s something I want to know right the fucking second it happens.” 

“They haven’t given up, Dean. They’ve been called back to report, probably to make sure none of them gets infected like… well… me. Heaven doesn’t want more angels to disobey.” Castiel said.

Dean calmed down. “So you’re saying the angels who are here, on Earth, need to refuel on brainwash-juice every now and then?”

“I’m not sure I understand, but… Earth is very confusing and uncomfortable for angels. That’s why so few of us come down here.” 

Dean took a step forward, squinting his eyes. “And these angels, or shall we say _ground_ bearers of the new dawn, are needed to lead the battle?”

“Oh yes,” Castiel said, “all my brothers and sisters need commanding officers who are used to Earth to lead.”

“And it would take a long time to make new Earth-resistant angels?” Dean asked.

“A long time for humans.”

Dean sat down. “Okay. So the prophecy wants me to kill the earth-angels off which means the rest will be stuck in Heaven.” 

“But… won’t the big-boss-angel, whoever that is, care that their precious Earth-immune soldiers start disappearing?” Charlie asked.

“There are three big-bo… archangels that lead Heaven.” Castiel said. “And they will care, I’m just not sure what they’ll do when it happens.”

Dean scoffed. “If I was boss of Heaven, I’d send a good chunk of the God-Squad down here if someone started picking my guys off. I don’t get why they’d just sit back… or why they don’t launch an all-out attack right now.” 

Sam shrugged hesitantly. “I guess we’ll just have to trust the prophecy. Have faith, you know.” 

If faith was what it took it wouldn’t come easy to any of them. Sam knew that his brother believed what could be proved and nothing else, and he leaned that way himself. The other prophecy, the one where he was supposed to be Lucifer’s vessel, hadn’t come true. Why would this one? Could they really gamble like that with Dean’s life… and theirs… and the fate of humanity? 

Castiel hesitantly put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Heaven has its own way of making decisions, Dean. It’s very hard to change directions when a plan fails.” The angel continued, with that almost childish honesty in his voice. “I’ll keep watch. I’ll tell you when they return and I’ll help as much as I can, no matter what you decide.”

“I know, Cas.” Dean answered and turned to the angel. “You do know that without you on our team we’d all turn into mindless drones, right? You made me the prophecy guy, and you got the weapons for us, so if I get rid of the angels, it’s thanks to you.” 

Castiel straightened his back, and Sam backed up a step. For the first time since they met he felt, intensely, that the angel had been a powerful soldier in Heaven’s army. Right now Cas kind of scared him a little bit. 

“What was _that_ , Cas?” Dean asked, a little cautious.

“What? Oh… my wings. You can’t see them, but humans react when we raise them.” The angel smiled. “I finally feel like a soldier again, Dean. Useful. Thank you.” 

The angel in front of them wasn’t the same one that had shown up the first time, worn-down and sad. This one was powerful with a clear sense of purpose. And there was something else… it seemed Cas had finally fully accepted that to keep humanity safe he had to be prepared for his siblings to die. 

Dean nodded. “I noticed that, wing-monkey. Neat little trick you got there.”

“I’d say.” Jody said. “Now… are you all ready to help out cooking or are we ordering pizza?” 

It wasn’t a bad idea, taking a break from all this talk about going to war against Heaven. Maybe even sleep on it. The angels had given them time to think, and they should take advantage of that. 

“Kitchen!” This was a decision Sam could make without even thinking about it.

“Oh yeah.” Dean said. “Wait. I don’t want to chop rabbit food again.”

Jody laughed. “You know the salad is your job, Dean. Anything else and you’ll either mess it up or eat it up.” 

Even if Sam still missed the hotel, he loved listening to Dean and Jody bickering while Cas left to stand guard and Charlie went to get Claire and Garth to help out. It made him feel good, and he decided to try to follow his brother’s example and enjoy things when he could. The threat of an impending doomsday wasn’t going anywhere.


End file.
